The Archangel Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon must rescue Elliott Mc Gowan, an U.N.C.L.E. assassin and mother of Illya Kuryakin's son, from the hands the"General." Illya is sent to Greece an a mission of murder.All walk a fine line between loyalty and betrayal. mild het/lang. # 5 Saga series
1. Chapter 1

_But that fallen angel had one chance in life that she was given. _

_This angel won't make the same mistakes she made before. _

_This angel will go down the right path that has been chosen for her. _

_This fallen angel knows what she has to do to be forgiven._

from "The Fallen Angel" by Jennifer Rondeau

**"The Archangel Affair"**

He stood off at a distance trying to stay out of the driving rain. His contact was across the road and had just gotten out of a taxi in front of St. Gallen-Altenrhein airport. Located in a country that was like a "safe zone" famed outwardly for it's neutrality and because of that spies liked to congregate here. There seemed to be an unwritten rule...no one was killed or taken in Switzerland but sometimes every rule gets broken.

He watched carefully for the direction the man would take as he walked to the edge of the busy road, when his contact stopped for a second, suddenly grabbing the left side of his neck, he lurched forward crumpling to the ground.

"Der'mo_shit!" he cursed in Russian, throwing his cigarette down; he ran across the road dodging cars as their horns protested his presence.

He touched his fingers to the throat...feeling no pulse, assuming the man was dead. There was a small dart proturding from the neck and Illya quickly deduced poison.

"You will no longer need these my friend," he whispered, taking the documents from the man's coat. A crowd had begun to gather as Kuryakin stood up quickly concealing them under his raincoat.

"Someone call an ambulance. I think he has had a heart attack," he announced, then melted away into the crowd of people that now surrounded the body on the ground.

He hailed a cab wanting to get away before he too became a target...he knew the assassin had seen him and wondered why he had not been picked off as well, but then smiled when he thought of another possibility.

He gave the driver the address of the UNCLE office in Zurich as the cab drove down the nearly flooded road leading away from the airport.

"Was war das überhapt_what was that all about?" the diver asked in German.

"I have no idea." the Russian lied.

Forty five minutes later the cab arrived at it's destination and Illya ducked out of the torrential rain into the clock shop that served as the front for the agents entrance. He headed straight to the office of Armend Zubbriggen,as the agent in charge had scheduled a video conference with Alexander Waverly for the Russian to file his preliminary report.

"Please Illya sit," Armend offered.

"Thank you, no." Illya refrained from sitting as he removed his raincoat, he was soaked through and realized he was leaving a puddle where he stood.

Illya let out a sneeze when his brief report to Waverly concluded, then the man spoke to him...

"Very good Mr. Kuryakin, at least you safely obtained the Thrush codes. Now go find yourself some dry clothes before you catch your death of cold. I will expect you back in New York tomorrow."

"Thank you sir, I will do that."

Waverly said nothing more and the screen went black.

"Illya you can use guest quarters upstairs to dry off. I'll send someone up with a sweatsuit for you to change into, then we can get your suit clean and dried.

Illya headed up to quarters, stripping off his wet clothes and wrapping a towel around his waist, he started to dry his hair when she simply walked in through the door.

She tossed him the sweats as she ducked a long wooden case out of sight behind the desk against the wall.

"Look at these clothes," she clicked her tongue," ye were soaked to the bone were ye not? I hope ye don't catch another cold...Demya has gotten enough of them from ye already."

"I might say the same about you...being soaked that is." he smiled.

Elliott was quite wet herself and began to remove her clothes to change into a pair of sweats as well.

"So what were you up to in the pouring rain...and why are you here in Switzerland?" he asked.

"Oh I just stepped out to get a pack of fags when I got caught out in the rain," she answered, ignoring the more important of the two questions."

"Cigarettes?" he said,"May I have one? Mine were soaked..."

"urm, sorry love...never got them. The tobacconist was closed due to the weather.

Illya smiled...knowing that everything she had just told him was a lie. She had her secrets too and he knew it was a sniper-rifle case she had hidden from his view.

He walked over to her, pulling her against his naked chest..."so who was your target, my contact or the shooter?"

"Shooter?" she smiled, answering his question, but not answering it.

"Thank you my love," he said, kissing her on the forehead," I was wondering why I had not been killed as well."

"Why Illuysha, what ever are ye talking about? she smiled at him.

They returned to New York on the same flight, filed their reports separately with Alexander Waverly, then headed home to the apartment they shared. Dimitry was still with his sitter Mrs. Orloff and they decided it was too late to pick him up. They were both scheduled off the next day deciding they would collect him in the morning.

It was a rare occasion that they had the place to themselves free of a pair of prying, innocent eyes that belonged to their very inquisitive and above average twenty month old son.

Demya was a very active child, ahead of the charts both in development and intelligence, having a large vocabulary and able to converse in English, Irish and Russian. And he was ahead of the curve in his temperament as well...but not necessarily for the better. He could say "NO!" in three different languages and learning to say it in still more. A child throwing a tantrum in multiple languages was quite an amusing sight at first, but then became too much even for his parents to tolerate.

They realized that Demya could be stopped in mid-tirade and made to tow the line when his father would simple raise his voice slightly, warning him only Russian. When his father did that; he knew he was in big trouble.

When he was calm, he was an affectionate child, wanting to sit cuddling in his parents laps because he knew it was a time that he had their undivided attention...something he loved. He was curious, helpful and always following them around eager to help and to learn. Yet he had the brooding scowl of his father and the temper of his mother when he didn't get his way...it could be tedious at times to say the least. Yes, the terrible twos had arrived just a bit early...

Illya and Elliott dropped their bags and coats where they stood when they both realized they were very much alone...grabbing each other in a long embrace, they dropped to the living room floor and had passionate sex right there, moving to the couch...then to the dining table and then finally Illya flung Elliott over his shoulder as she giggled uncontrollably, carrying her to their bed. The session went on for hours... making love, resting then making love again...until something very unexpected happened.

A condom broke, ending the evening's frolicks instantly.

Oh Yebat'...ohk ebat', och jebat'_ oh fffuck!" he cursed in Russian, Ukranian then Belorussian.

Elliott dropped her head back on the pillow, covering her face with her hands"...oh nooo?" she moaned.

The next morning Illya left to pick up their son from Mrs. Orloff's home a few blocks away, not saying anything about what had happened the night before to Elliott...only time would tell if another Kuryakin had been conceived. What was the use of talking about it.

Demya rushed into his father's open arms and Illya hoisted him up into the air above his head making the him burst out into a fit of laughter. He brought the boy down, holding him in his arms.

"Demyachka, byli horoshilm dlya Tetya Olga_Demyachka, were you good for Auntie Olga?"

"Da papa. YA byl horoshim mal'chikom_Yes papa I was a good boy."

"Auntie Olga...is Demmy being truthful?"

"For the most part," she smiled," he is always a good by for his Auntie Olga."

"Look papa...I cut my knee," Demya said pointing to a small scrape on his skin.

"Oo...takoy lyap bol'no bylo moemu syn_aww...such a boo-boo did it hurt my son?"

"Nyet, I was very brave papa."

"Horoshiy mal'chik_good boy." Illya said proudly.

Illya's thoughts suddenly drifted to his own childhood.

"Shush, shush moya mal'chik" his father said to Illya picking him up from the ground as he cried.

"Papa mne bol'no_papa it hurts!"

Nicholaí Kuryakin examined his son's knees that were scraped and bleeding.

"Don't cry my Illushka...they are but small cuts and it will heal. You must try to be brave."

Illya nodded his little blond head, rubbing his tear-filled eyes with small fists.

"Yes papa I will be brave. It does not hurt anymore..."

"Horoshiy mal'chik_good boy," Nicholaí said proudly," your courage deserves a reward...would you like a slice of bread with jam and some tea?"

"Yes...Illya said out loud returning from his thoughts," Demyachka...your courage deserves a reward. Auntie Olga would you have some bread with jam and a little tea for our brave boy here?"

His communicator called his attention away from Demya.

"Kuryakin here."

"Illuysha, bad news. I've just been called out for an assignment. I won't be here when ye get home...heading straight out to the airport. Give Demmy a kiss from his mama for me? Eu te amo minha querida Rússia_ I love you my darlin' Russian." she said to him in Portuguese...a little clue to where she might be headed.

"Eu tombém te amo meu anjo_I love you my angel."

Little did Illya know that Elliott was being sent on an Archangel assignment to somewhere in the jungles of Brazil. He had suspected her involvement in the program, but was not sure...what he was sure of was that she did not know he was the Archangel designated as Gabriel.

Illya left Mrs. Orloffs later in the afternoon...she insisted that he stay for lunch. She was an excellent cook, preparing mostly Russian dishes so there was no need to ask him twice.

He returned home with his son, spending the rest of the day with him playing, teaching...napping together on the couch. Demya was accustomed to the comings and goings of his parents so he did not seem to miss his mother at the moment, until his father had to say one word to him. "No."

Dimitry wanted another cookie before his dinner.

"But I WANT another cookie!"

"I am not going to say it again, Demyachka...no."Illya told him calmly.

"I want mama! She would give me one! I want mama!"

Demya proceeded to throw a temper tantrum.

"Believe me...I want mama too but she is away at work" Illya spoke to him calmly," so no mama and no cookie."

Demya let loose with a plaintive wail, tears falling down his cheek with his lower lip trembling. Illya knew the boy was hungry and tired, just like his father, he got cranky when hunger called to him. He fed the child his dinner early and put him down in his crib for the night. And Illya not feeling like reading, did the same... he went to bed early, and just like Demmy, he missed Elliott as well.

Illya woke up early, moving quietly to check upon his son sleeping peacefully in his crib. He glance at the clock it was five in the morning...a little earlier than his usual time to rise but close enough.

He walked into the kitchen, putting the kettle on for his morning tea...then leaning with his back to the counter looking out into the small apartment. Thinking of the broken condom... if Elliott had gotten pregnant they would have to move, it would simply be too small for a family of four. Four? He shook his head at the thought...Waverly had let them slide on a lot of things...but a second child? That would surely be a problem.

Their meager belongings barely filled the place but children needed space...he and Elliott needed their space and privacy as well. Eventually they would have had to move to a larger place as Demya got older, as it would not do for him to be in their bedroom and he would need a room of his own. Illya had just not anticipated the possible need to move this soon.

The chirping of his communicator on the kitchen counter called to him.

"Poshol k chortu_go to hell!" he mumbled, not wanting to be bothered to answer.

"Kuryakin here." he responded reluctantly.

"Good morning sunshine...saw your light on."Napoleon answered cheerily.

"Where are you?"

"Right outside." There was a coded knock at the door to the apartment. Illya checked the security camera before letting his partner inside.

"So what are you doing up this early?"Illya asked.

"Haven't been to bed yet. Waverly had me up all night going through Thrush communiqués...that man definitely does not sleep!"

The kettle began to whistle as it boiled on the stove.

"Tea?" Illya asked.

"Coffee would be better?"

Illya shook his head no...

"O.K. tea is fine, thanks."

"Breakfast Napoleon...scrambled eggs, sausage...toast?"

"Sure why not, right now that sounds good? Elliott's cooking right?" he said trying to cover up a yawn.

"No...she is out on assignment. So I will cook,"he smiled,"once my son is awake I will not have time for much of anything."

He spoke as he prepared their breakfast with one hand, the other he use to open a cabinet above his head, taking out several jars of baby food, letting the eggs set for a second while he grabbed a pot from on top of the stove, put water in it, popped the lids off the jars, then placed the pot on the lit stove...all without missing a beat.

Napoleon laughed as he watched the man once known as the "Ice Prince" behaving so domestically.

"She's gotten you trained quite well hasn't she ? When I first met you...you couldn't even boil water."

Illya blushed..."Wait a minute. I could so boil water?" he protested.

"It's just a figure of speak for not being able to cook."

Illya smiled." Yes that was true...but no longer! Et Voila!

He scooped up the eggs and sausage, adding a slice of tomato onto a plate, the toast popped up from the toaster and he buttered it, then handed the plate to his partner, then prepared one for himself.

Napoleon tasted the food, cocking his eyebrows.

"Very good...I remember when you used to live off cereal and commissary chow."

"Those days I do not miss my friend, although the commissary food now is quite palatable thanks to Tillie...have you heard the news by the way? She is expecting." he said quickly finishing up his breakfast.

"You little matchmaker you...look what you're responsible for now?"

"Excuse me?" Illya took Napoleon's comment the wrong way simply because of the mishap with Elliott he night before.

"Napoleon you do not think I have gotten...soft? Do you?

"Oh because you can cook a little and can take care of your son...you think that?" Solo laughed." Please don't be ridiculous."

"I am worried about that and other things." Illya spoke softly."Napoleon it is not easy being an agent...and partner to Elliot as well as a father to Demmy. Granted Elliott and I went into this with open eyes but the theory and the reality are really quite different...do not get me wrong. With Demya coming into the mix...not that I regret anything, he is a wonderful child."

"Illya...Illya! Napoleon interrupted him, " you're rambling. I have never heard you ramble...ever?"

Illya stopped instantly realizing his partner was correct.

"I am sorry...there are a few things on my mind."

Illya turned off the stove, looking at his watch, then suddenly started to count out loud 5-4-3-2-1"

A few seconds later Demya cried out from the bedroom.

"No, you didn't just do that...how did you do that?" Napoleon asked in disbelief.

"I have to change Demya's nappy. Care to assist?" Illya offered.

"No thank you," Napoleon said crinkling his nose.

Illya shrugged, then disappeared into the bedroom, then appeared a few minutes later with his son in his arms...the child was a miniature version of his father, right down to the icy, stubborn stares.

Unca Poly!" Demya greeted Napoleon.

Illya handed his son into the waiting arms of his Uncle Napoleon.

"Hi ya...little chick a dee!"

"Nyet ne kuritsa_not a chicken Unca Poly...I a wolf cub Grrrrr!"

"Ha!" Napoleon blurted out a loud laugh, " Demya, you are your father's son!"

Illya set up the high chair next to the table, then taking Demmy from Napoleon, he placed the boy in it. He spooned out the warm baby food from the jars to a bowl, plus some scrambled eggs on a plate and put it before Demmy, but not before putting a bib around his son's neck. He fed Demya a few spoonfuls, then handed the utensil to the child.

"Have at it Demyachka, you know how to do it...show Uncle Napoleon what a big boy you are, da?"

Napoleon watched with a wry smile as Demya devoured the food, not missing or spilling a drop until it was completely gone. Illya then handed him half a banana.

"My God!"Napoleon gasped, "He's a miniature you Illya!"

"Thank you. I take that as a compliment," the Russian beamed with pride.

Solo finally looked at his watch. It was now six-thirty in the morning. " I hate to eat and run, but I need to get some sleep. I have to be back at headquarters this afternoon."

Elliott Mc Gowan was pinned down by gunfire from the security teams that had been guarding her target.

"This is hilo 6-Alpha what is your status Azriel...I repeat what it your status?"

"Taking on heavy fire...ye need to take them out for me boys?"

"What is your position?"

"In a ditch 30 degrees south...feck! She cursed as a hail of bullets came too close for comfort." Hurry up! Ye need to get here and get these damn guns out now!"

Suddenly the helicopter crew heard a large explosion over the radio.

"Azriel...are you O.K. Do you copy?"

"Copy...taking on heavy rocket fire...need extraction now. I repeat need extraction now!"

"Copy that Archangel...ETA 10 minutes."

"Affirmative...waiting with bated breath boyos!" Elliott yelled over the radio.

The helicopter arrived laying down cover fire while Elliott scrambled into it, then took off gliding forward, then going vertical as the pilot avoided a near miss from another rocket grenade.

She pulled her communicator."OPEN CHANNEL R-OVERSEAS RELAY-AZRIEL" she spoke loudly over the roar of the helicopter engine and the distinctive chuga, chuga, chuga chuga of the blades as they whipped the air.

"Report Azriel?" said Alexander Waverly.

"MISSION WAS A WAS SIR. UNABLE TO GET NEAR THE COMPOUND FOR SOLUTION PLEASE ADVISE." Elliott shouted as the helicopter began to shake violently from the continuing rocket fire.

"Repeat again Azriel, you are breaking up?"

Waverly could hear the radio man in the background.

"HILO 6-ALPHA MAY DAY MAY DAY...WE HAVE BEEN HIT. WE ARE GOING DOWN... LATITUDE 23˚ 31' 60 South, LONGITUDE 4˚ 3' 0 West. MAY DAY MAY..."

"Azriel? Are you there? Azriel?"

The communicator went dead. Waverly hurriedly flicked a switch on his console, "Communications...I want the location of the last transmission from Hilo 6- Alpha immediately?"

Napoleon Solo walked into Alexander Waverly's office, having received a summons to report immediately. He was in the commissary having a cup of coffee to wake himself up, and to congratulate Tillie on her big news. He seated himself at the conference table with out saying a word.

Waverly looked up at him."I'm afraid we have a situation in São Paulo Mr. Solo...one of our agents has gone missing. I'm afraid it is one of the Archangels ."

Alexander Waverly had briefed him over a year and a half ago on the existence of the Archangels...

"As CEA of Northwest you have been given top clearance for access to much of UNCLE's classified information. One program that you are not familiar with is the "Archangel" project.

"Napoleon answered cautiously," I've heard the name...but that's about it."

"Mr. Solo, The Archangels are a highly select team of U.N.C.L.E. assassins who's services are used in shall we say "unique" situations.

Napoleon was surprised at this."Doesn't assassination countermand UNCLE's precepts?"

Waverly lit a match to his pipe, filling the air with the faint scent of sulphur before the odor of the tobacco filled the room.

"Let us say it pushes things to the limits," Waverly said,"Assassination is a nasty business and it is used by us as a court of last resort...and only after it has been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that the target has been turned by Thrush without possibility of the target is one of great influence, especially in the political arena. Could you imagine the havoc that Thrush could wreak if they were to control an entire country... perhaps a world power? The consequences would be catastrophic."

Waverly relit his pipe again, taking a few puffs on it.

"The identities of these agents are highly classified for their own protection...they are known strictly by their code names and like you Mr. Solo are privy to more information than the average agent, hence the need for secrecy..."

Napoleon remembered from the briefing with Waverly that there were seven operatives given the "archangel," code name; he quickly ran through the designations in his head. "Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Azriel, Uriel, Remiel and Sabriel."

"Which one sir?"

"Azriel."

"That was the name of the "angel of death" in the bible." Napoleon realized... and like his namesake, Azriel was the most prolific of all the Archangel operatives.

"Yes sir, what do you need me to do?

"I need you to find her Mr. Solo."

"Her sir?

"Yes, "her" Mr. Solo. The operative known as Azriel is Miss Elliott Mc Gowan. Her target was a mysterious military figure and Thrush associate, who has virtually taken over parts of Brazil. He is known only as "the General." We have been tracking him for quite some time... going as far back as Mr. Kuryakin's mission from "The Lost and Found Affair." It was his shipment of weapons from Thrush that went down on the Hakudu Maru. He has since however armed himself heavily and is rumored to be preparing for a military coup.

Napoleon tried to hide his surprise."Will Mr. Kuryakin be involved in this mission?"

"No. Mr. Kuryakin will not. I need my top agent on this retrieval."

"Why not sir? Illya...Mr. Kuryakin has worked assignments with her in the past, just because they are living.."

Waverly cut him off..."not in this case Mr. Solo...if Miss Mc Gowan cannot be rescued, then I must reluctantly issue an order to terminate. I cannot ask Mr. Kuryakin to to that to the mother of his child...I do have some consideration for them."

Napoleon's heart sank to the proverbial pit of his stomach. "Terminate sir?" he swallowed as he said the word.

"Yes, Mr. Solo. Terminate...with extreme prejudice...keeping collateral damage to a minimum of course." Waverly repeated with a coldness to his voice. "Well Mr. Solo am I understood on this?"

"...Yes sir."

He could sense the hesitation in Napoleon's voice.

"I am however not without feelings on the matter Napoleon, bring her back alive,please by all means but I need to know that if you cannot bring her back then you will complete this mission without hesitation."

"Yes sir...I accept the assignment," he said biting his lip." If it has to be done, then I should be the one to do it... rather than anyone else."

"Need I remind you that this mission is highly classified. I understand your friendship with Mr. Kuryakin complicates the situation but under no circumstances are you discuss any of this with him, nor are you to get him involved in anyway what so ever. He does not know of her affiliation with the Archangels and I expect it to remain that way."

"There is no reading between the lines on this Mr. Solo, no semantics, no game playing is that clear?"

"Crystal."


	2. Chapter 2

The Heuy jolted from the hit setting off alarms as it began to lose altitude. The radioman calling out coordinates.

"MAY DAY MAY DAY! over the roar of of the engine, the blades whipping the air as smoke billowed into the cabin.

They were spiralling down fast and Elliott grabbed the cross bar by the open door to keep from being thrown out of the helicopter as she was tossed around inside.

When it crashed, they hit hard and she was thrown out, landing face down to the ground as the copter collided against a hillside. Elliott raised herself up on her hands, her head spinning as her vision faded. She saw one of the crew members crawl out of the hilo just before it burst into flame, then she blacked out.

Elliott woke up, finding herself bound and sitting in a metal chair. The radioman sitting in a chair beside her whispered to her.

"You alright miss?"

"As well as can be expected, " she answered weakly. Her head was pounding and her body ached all over but other than that, she seemed to be free of injury.

"Não falar_ no talking!" the guard barked at them in Portuguese.

"What'd he say?"

"No talking." she whispered.

"Silêncio!

"Aw carumba..dá um tempo...estamos amarrados você sabe_ aw Jeez, give us a break...we're tied up ye know?" Elliott barked back at him.

"So what's yer name?" she asked the radioman.

"Pete, Pete Hagan...section three. And I'm guessing that Azriel is not your real name?"

"Correct. My name is Elliott...seeing as how my assassination days are numbered."

"Understood ma'am."

At that moment a burly man dressed in an ornate military uniform walked in, his entrance snapping the guard to attention. It was the General himself accompanied by an aide.

"So senhor, your attempt to kill me has failed...who is it that sent you?" he addressed Hagan.

The aide leaned into the General's ear, whispering to him, his response was one of surprise.

"Ah senhorita...so it was possibly you who tried to assassinate me? He picked up her special that lay partially disassembled on a nearby table, examining it carefully.

"This I recognize...it is the weapon used by UNCLE, is it not?"

Elliott remained silent...the General slapped her across the face.

She spat a mouthful of blood..."ffuck offf!"

That garnered her another harder slap, his ring cutting her cheek this time.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Pete shouted.

The General drew his side arm, shooting the man in the head without hesitation...the impact sending him over backward in the chair to the floor.

"Oh Jesus!" Elliott blurted out, "Ye God damn animal!"She struggled trying to loosen her bonds.

"Now what is your name?" the General asked with a calm demeanor even though he had just murdered a man in cold blood.

"Me perdue meu General_pardon me my General," said the guard." I overheard the name Azriel. The woman said she was an assassin.

"Azriel...Azriel?" the General repeated," I know that name...it is from the bible and the name of "o anjo da morte"...the angel who is the bringer of death. How clever a code name for such a prettty assassin. I never would have expected a woman...I find that very erotic. Tell me are you like the black widow who kills her mate after making passionate love...oh yes, the thought of that is very arousing to me."

He ran his hands across her chest, slipping his fingers beneath her shirt, squeezing her breasts, pulling at her nipples.

Elliott put her head back closing her eyes, preparing herself for what she thought was to come next, but instead he withdrew his hands with a satisfied grunt. She lashed out with her foot, just missing his groin.

He laughed out loud..."You are a feisty one with your fiery red hair. Are you this passionate between the sheets? Put her in a cell for now."he ordered the guard." I will savor fucking her for another time," he said as he left.

Elliott guessed three days had passed when was brought to the General's bedchamber, her hands bound behind her. She had been bathed and now wore a loose fitting peasant top hanging low off her shoulders and a flowing green skirt.

"Leave us." he ordered the guard.

"Ah yessss," that color is most complimentary to your beautiful red hair." He took her long hair in his hands smelling it, the wrapped his arms around, slobbering at her throat. He pulled down her blouse and began groping her, putting his mouth to her breasts. He removed the rest of her clothes as she fought him, throwing her down to his bed. Then climbed on top of her forcing his lips to hers as Elliott struggled against him, but there was no way for her to move to escape him as his weight pinned her. His breath stank of peppers and onion. And she smelled his strong body odor as he groped her again, biting her breasts, shoving her legs apart with his own as he prepared to rape her.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and a voice called nervously.

"Perdão meu General...but we have captured another U.N.C.L.E. agent.

The General grabbed a robe putting it on as he opened the door.

"Yes my General, a thousand pardons at the interruption. We caught another agent in the compound a man sir, perhaps here to try to kill you and rescue the senhorita?

The General looked at Elliott lying on the bed, thinking for a moment...

Elliott's thoughts jumped to Illya...thinking it was he who was here to free her and now too was a captive.

"Take her back to her cell. He picked her clothes throwing them at the guard as she was dragged away naked from the room.

Elliott sat curled up on a ragged straw mattress in the corner of her cell; her head resting atop her crossed arms waiting for the guards return,

The cell door opened and a man was thrown inside the cell with her. She saw the dark head as he picked himself up from the the floor, his face swollen and bruised.

"Napoleon?"

"Hi Ellie!" he smiled," I'm here to rescue you."

"No offence...but some rescue? Is Illya with ye?"

"No, not this time. Waverly banned him from the mission...he's not to know your identity as Azriel"

Elliott was a bit surprised..."and ye are?"

"Privilege of being CEA," he smiled.

"Sooo is everything going to yer plan...or is this a little snafu that ye've hit?" she said gesturing to the prison cell.

He pulled her to her feet. "Everything is proceeding as planned."

They had confiscated his weapons and communicator, his wristwatch and jewelry, but they had not searched him carefully enough. Napoleon pulled up his sleeve revealing a long scar on this forearm; he picked at it until the piece of latex peeled away instantly. The he opened the heels of both his shoes, hidden inside were several miniature sleep darts and two small tubes that he fitted together making a blowgun.

He looked at Elliott."Ready to blow this place?" he said facetiously.

"Do ye really need me ta answer that...please by all means?"

He walked to the door, positioning the blowgun through the small barred window aiming it at the guard. He gave it one puff, launching the dart, hitting the man directly in the throat. And watched as seconds later he dropped silently to the floor.

Napoleon fixed the false scar to the lock, then pulling one of his buttons off his shirt, he crushed it releasing a small catalyst that started a chemical reaction, burning open the lock.

They opened the cell door quietly, stepping into the corridor quickly retrieving the guards side arm and rifle. Napoleon loaded another dart into the blowgun, shooting the next guard that was stationed at the exit to the cell block taking his weapons as well.

He and Elliott made their way up the stairs and out into the compound, walking straight into another group of guards. The two agents dove behind a wall taking out a few of them. Then a fire fight ensued.

"We have ta get out of here before more of them show up," Elliott said as she stepped out from the wall firing, taking down the last of them.

"You're crazy!" Solo laughed

"Ye are just getting that now?"

She and Solo scaled the low wall surrounding the compound, taking off into the rainforest heading in the direction of São Paulo. The General's stronghold was on a hill, giving them a full view of the city off in the distance.

The sounds of monkeys howling and birds singing echoed around them as they ran...it was hot and hard to breathe as the temperature had to be over 90 degrees. The humidity was oppressive as they continued running.

"It's going to rain, you can smell it in the air," Napoleon said as he pulled Elliott along with him. They could hear sirens blaring in the distance and the baying of dogs as they moved away from the compound, Solo maintaining a tight grip on Elliott's hand.

They hadn't lost the Generals men as sounds of the dogs became closer when nearing the outskirts of São Paulo. They came to a road that leading them to a run down into a poorer neighborhood as the downpour finally came. The rain at least might help throw the dogs off their scent.

Napoleon and Elliott ducked into one of the nearby buildings running up the stairs to the top. There they ran from rooftop to roof top, splashing trough puddles that formed as the rains continued to come down. They stopped to catch their breath again soaked to the skin. Leaving Elliott sitting by a chimney, Napoleon walked over trying the door to the rooftop, finding it unlocked. Shots suddenly rang out...they had been found again! Bullets hit the door and Napoleon had no choice but to duck inside the door. Elliott ran back behind the chimney, getting off a few shots, then she turned and ran to the next building, balancing across the roof top as she dodged the men who were still after her. Three of them that she could see, the rest must have gone down after Solo.

Elliott tore across the roof tops, running at full speed from building to building as they fired at her, bullets ricocheting off another chimney as she ducked behind it, chunks of brick flying everywhere behind her. There was no sign of Napoleon, and she prayed they hadn't killed him. Elliott turned firing at them again, bringing one of the men down, then took off again.

She suddenly stopped herself short...she had run out of building and faced the chasm of an alleyway that stood between her and the next rooftop.

She turned back, seeing the remaining two coming closer...she grabbed the knob on the door to the roof but it was locked.

"Feck!" she cursed.

She took a few steps back, then bounded forwards to the end of the building, launching herself up and across the alley. But the leap wasn't far enough and she, now found herself dangling by her hands from the ledge of the next building.

A bullet struck the cement by hands chipping it, sending pieces of it scattering down into Elliott's face.

She was as good as dead...the question was to permit them to shoot her or just to let go and fall to her death...at least the latter would offer them no satisfaction. Tears filled her eyes as she bid a silent farewell to Illya and her son Dimitry.

Suddenly gunfire erupted again, this time from above her, it seemed to go on forever as she hung there...her grip finally beginning to weaken. Then silence as her hands failed her and she let go. Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed her by the wrists, pulling her up and to the rooftop.

"Napoleon!"she gushed, tears still in her eyes. She was elated as just a few seconds ago she had resigned herself to plummeting to her death. Elliott suddenly grabbed his face in her excitement, holding it between her two hands she planted a kiss on his lips happy to see him.

Napoleon reacted, pulling her to him caught in the heat of the moment, kissing her back passionately and Elliott found herself returning his embrace. His hands were all over her pulling her skirt up, he undid his belt as they lost themselves in their passion, then he lifted Elliott up, pushing her back against a chimney, lowering her onto him. She gasped as he entered her, discovering the big reason why so many women were crazy about Napoleon Solo. He kissed her throat as he pushed up into her, thrusting again and again. His undeclared love for her had lured him into a moment of pure desire and lust and it was over in minutes, Napoleon gently lowered Elliott to her feet instantly regretting what he had done.

She fixed her clothing nervously, then let out a sob, covering her mouth with her hand."What did we do?" Napoleon grabbed it, giving it a squeeze.

"We gotta go." he whispered but nothing more.

They headed down from the roof top to the street below following it to an open air market filled with shoppers.

Suddenly there was a jarring explosion in the middle of the market, then another to their left...more explosions as cars blew, stalls went up in flames, vendors and shopper thrown. People were screaming, the dead and injured strewn across the market within minutes.

Napoleon having been knocked down by a blast, pulled himself up scanning quickly for Elliott. He spotted the red head laying around fifteen feet away in the smoldering remains of a stall.

He ran quickly to her, checking her pulse...she was alive, covered in blood from who knows how many and what kind of wounds.

He scooped Elliott up in his arms, starting to move as quickly as he could away from the carnage. It seemed odd to Napoleon the Generals men would used such extreme measures to try to take out he and Elliott.

He made it away from the market and to the next block. He stopped again for a moment to catch his breath and to check that Elliott was still breathing as well, when a young woman emerged from doorway... giving her a start when she saw him holding a woman covered in blood.

He did not speak Portugese and tried Spanish instead...

"Signorina perdón_ miss excuse me? That didn't seem to work...then he tried Italian.

"Mi potete aiatare...la mia amica à rimasta ferita nel mercato...c'erano esplosioni_ Can you help me...my friend was hurt in the market...there were explosions?"

"Sì,sì...sì li ho sentiti...si prega di portare lei in casa mia_oh yes, yes...I heard them...please bring her into my house!"she said, gesturing for Napoleon to enter.

The door opened to a large room filled with a table and chairs and a sofa in front of a stone fire place. The girl quickly cleared off the table, allowing Napoleon to lay Elliot down carefully, then she went into another room, reappearing with a first aide kit, scissors.

"The kitchen is there," she pointed him," I'll need water...and towels in the drawer."

She immediately set about cutting away Elliott's bloody top...she had several fair sized pieces of glass embedded in her shoulder...but nothing that seemingly needed stitches. Napoleon arrived with the towels and water, and she proceeded to wash away the blood to make it easier to see the wounds. Elliott had a small gash in her head, that was responsible for most of the blood, she cleaned it, put ointment then dressed it with a small bandage. Then she carefully removed the shards of glass, cleaning and bandaging those wounds as well. By the time she was done Elliott had 6 bandages on her head, back and shoulder.

The girls finally squeezed the towel into the pot of water that now was a dark shade of pink...and sighed, then draped a fresh towel covering Elliott up.

"Your friend will be fine but I am sure she will have a headache when she wakes."

"Mille grazie_ many thanks miss...?"

"Senna, my name is Senna Alegria."

"That is a beautiful name Senna Alegria...almost musical." he smiled, pausing for a moment as he admired her.

"My name is Solo, Napoleon Solo."

Senna returned his smile."So you were caught up in the rivoluzione, I would assume."

"Revolution... you mean the General's coup?"

"No Napoleon...the revolution against the tyranny of the General. The people have had it with him...he's crazy. It was bound to happen."

"Really?" Napoleon smiled thinking this was going to solve a big problem for UNCLE.

"ohhhmmm" Elliott started to moan, "what the feck happened?" She tried pushing herself up to her elbows, then laid back down again, her hand to her head.

"No, no senhorita, you musn't move just yet... you may have a concussion?" she said to Elliott

"Ellie, we apparently have gotten caught up in the middle of a revolt against the General...you're going to be alright. You've got some cuts and bruised and a pretty good lump on the head.

Elliott insisted upon moving to the sofa, Napoleon helping her to move as she held the towel to her chest, covering herself. Senna appeared a minute later with a blouse for her to put on.

"Senna, this is my friend Ellie Mc Gowan."

"Thank you for yer help miss." Elliott said to her.

"I am only glad that I was here to give it, "Senna touched Elliotts hand lightly."Now I think it is best that you stay here to rest for a bit...I will go a few doors down to my friend Cecilia to get food, she's always cooking something. You both look like you are in need of a good meal."

Senna left them alone, and Napoleon sat on the couch next to Elliott. She had a blank expression on her face, looking very distant.

"Elliott. I'm s.."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"We have to talk about it...look I'm sorry, so sorry for what happened. I shouldn't have done that to you."

"Fine...ye are sorry but I did it too. How am I going to...he can never know. Illya can never find out, it'll kill him."

"Kill him... honey, I think he'll kill me?"

"Elliott...I need you to know something...maybe it will allow you to forgive me just a little bit...I love you, I have for quite a while now."

Elliot turned to face him, touching her hand softly to his cheek. "Thank you Napoleon...but I don't love ye, not that way at least. I love him...I love Illya and always will."

"I know. You don't have anything to worry about, this won't ever happen again and he'll never know, I give you my solemn word on it. You're right, it would kill him...all the things that you have helped him to free from his heart would be destroyed by this one thoughtless act."

Elliott curled herself up in a ball, burying her head in her arms, not saying anything else to Napoleon.

Senna brought a hot bowl of Couriço, a dish made of sausage, red wine and peppers and a side of feijoada, made with kidney beans, beef, tomatoes, carrots and cabbage. She set the table putting out a bottle of red wine and glasses.

Napoleon and Elliott joined her at the table saying little. He watched at Elliott only picked at her food.

When they were finished, he thanked Senna, their eyes meeting not for the first time that night.

"My compliments to you and your friend Cecilia for the meal, your kindness and hospitality...now I have one rather large favor to ask of you signorina. We need a car?"

Napoleon told Senna that he and Elliott were agents for U.N.C.L.E. and of their problems with the General.

"We need to get away from here and to our office in Rio de Janiero...is that possible Senna?" he nearly purred, turning on his charm.

"I have a car...Napoleon," she said, responding to his flirtatious voice, "but it will cost you." Senna took hold of his tie, leading him to her bedroom.

When he returned a while later, Elliott looked at him, rolling her eyes..."Ye know...I think ye have a problem...two women, sex with two women in such a short time?

"Ellie...don't even go there."

Napoleon gave Senna Alegria a long kiss as he and Elliott made ready to leave in the grey Range Rover she had loaned them.

"Will I see you again some day Napoleon?"

He smiled at her...only the gods decide our fate but I hope so" he kissed her on the hand then got into the truck and drove off...but I do have to make sure your car is returned to you..." There were some fires still burning, some sporadic gunfire off in the distance as they headed out of São Paulo along the coast up to Rio de Janerio.

When they arrived eight hours later Elliott was checked into medical, her wounds cleaned and redressed.

Napoleon when to the conference room, contacting Mr. Wavery via satellite transmission. Waverly's face appeared on the screen as they spoke.

"We have just received word that the General has been killed in a counter-revolution against his regime...well done Mr. Solo his elimination and the rescue of Miss Mc Gown make for a most satisfactory end to this whole business."

"I wish I could take credit for the General's downfall sir, but that was strictly the doing of the local populace. I am thankful that I did not have to terminate Miss Mc Gowan. All in all, things worked out for the better."

"Please escort Miss Mc Gowan back to New York when she is ready to travel Mr. Solo." The video screen went blank when Napoleon turned he find Elliott standing off to the side behind him."

"You had an order to terminate me?"she whispered in disbelief.

"Yes...but it was never going to happen Ellie. I couldn't have done that to you. That was why Illya wasn't sent on the mission...Waverly couldn't give him an order to kill you."

Elliott walked away from him shaking her head. "I need to rethink some things" she mumbled to herself.

The flight back to New York was an uncomfortable one for both of them. Sitting in close quarters was not good for either of them at the moment...what had happened between them was still too fresh.

Napoleon closed his eyes thinking about his momentary weakness with Elliott. He regretted it, chastising himself for losing control but at the same time the thought of their brief moment of pleasure together was breathtaking.

It was the connection he had sought with so many women but never had found until now... with a woman he had no right to. He would keep his promise to Elliott, that he swore to himself...at least he would have this memory of being with her. He only hoped that what had happened would not drive a wedge between them. If it did, he could understand why and would accept it as the consequence of his actions. He had to talk to her about it...he had to know.

"Penny for your thoughts," he leaned over whispered.

"I'm thinking my Illuysha...and ye Napoleon...the two of ye are the men in my life for better and for worse, so to speak. One is my lover, and one is my friend... I don't want to lose ye as a friend? Don't think that of yerself, that ye are not my friend any longer, alright?"

"I won't Ellie...thanks for wanting to keep me as your friend, you and Illya mean the world to me," he smiled," may I?" He leaned over and gave her a little peck on the cheek. "Ellliott...I have always prided myself on being an honorable man and now I'd done the most dishonorable of things. I've betrayed my best friend."

"No Napoleon...you made a mistake. It only proves that you are human...that we're human. Please don't beat yerself up over it?" Elliott smiled at him for a second."It'll be alright Napoleon...it has to be."


	3. Chapter 3

Illya Kuryakin walked past Lisa Rogers' empty desk, his nose buried deep enough in a science report not notice she wasn't there to clear his entry into Waverly's conference room.

The door opened silently and Kuryakin walked in automatically...looking up he realized he had made a faux pas.

"Oh, pardon me...I did not mean to intrude, my mistake."

He eyed Elliott and Napoleon sitting together. One side of his partners face was black and blue...Elliott had the beginnings of a black eye and a bruised cut on her cheek.

"No, no...not a problem Mr. Kuryakin." answered Waverly "We were just finishing up. What is it you require of me?"

Illya was momentarily distracted."Sir? um, nothing important. I was just wanted to go over some test results."

"Can it wait until this afternoon...I have a luncheon appointment at the club, you see."

"Yes sir. This afternoon." Illya turned to say something to Elliott but both she and Napoleon were gone.

Napoleon had retreated to their office when Illya finally caught up with him.

"When did this happen?" Illya asked, looking at the bruising oh his partner's cheek bone. He reached up to turn his face to the light, but Napoleon jerked away.

"What?" Napoleon snapped at him,"it's nothing...just a little accident on a quick assignment."

"I was just going to look at your cheek...have you been up to see Dr. Schneider?"

"No...why?"

"Because it looks like it is becoming infected, that is why. What is wrong with you...you seem rather nervous?"

"I'm not nervous, I'm fine. Whatever. Just fine...I'll go up to have it checked, thanks." Napoleon answered him more distracted than attentively.

"You're welcome...I think?" Illya realized that Napoleon was not paying attention to him at all. "Napoleon...the building is going to blow up in five minutes there's a nuclear bomb in the third floor lavratory. Dolores is pregnant with your child."

"Huh? Did you say something?

"I thought as much...never mind," Illya mumbled, wondering what had Napoleon so pre-occupied.

Napoleon looked completely lost as to what his partner was going on about and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Illya decided to leave him be and after filing his paperwork he then headed down the corridor to find Elliott. He had been a bit surprised that she had not let him know she was back from her assignment but no matter, as long as she was home safe and sound; that was what counted more than anything.

Illya walked into her office unannounced then was disappointed to find that she was not there. He picked up the phone, calling the section two secretary.

"Janet, could you locate Elliott for me please?"

"Hi Illya, sure, hold on one second... Elliott has left the building."

"Really? When did she leave?"

"Security shows fifteen minutes ago. She indicated that she was going home for the day."

"Thank you Janet." Illya hung up the receiver feeling a bit strange that Elliott had not spoken to him before leaving.

Illya opened up his communicator "Channel D please, Mc Gowan." He waited but she she did not answer. Something seemed rather odd...it was as though both Napoleon and Elliott were avoiding him, but he brushed that thought off. It was too soon to try to call her at home. He had a few things to attend to in the lab, a consult with the section eight chief, then his meeting with Waverly in the afternoon. Eventually he would find the time to call her to see if she was alright. He tried finding Napoleon again, but that too was a wash as he seemed to miss where ever he went in search of his partner...Eventually Illya made it home, never having made his phone call to Elliott.

Illya finally walked in to his apartment later that evening finding Elliott asleep on the sofa with Demya sleeping in his playpen. He smiled, shaking his head, then picking up his son, he carried him into the bedroom changed him, then put him into his crib.

He walked back out to the living room...looking at Elliott sleeping peacefully. He pulled a black velvet ring box from his pocket, opening it and examined the contents with a smiled then closed the box with a click. Tomorrow was Sunday and God willing they would both have the day off to spend it together.

"Elliott...Annushka?" he whispered.."Nu prishlo vremya lozhit' sya spat"_come, it is time to go to bed, my sweet?

"Mmm? hi..." she whispered barely able to wake herself.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm huh, sorry I'm really tired...it was a rough one this time,"

"Were you with Napoleon?"

Elliott's eyes opened wide. "What do ye mean?" she asked her mind jumping to conclusions; she was now awake.

"When you were debriefing with Napoleon this morning, I assumed you had been on assignment with him."

"Um...yes he assisted with part of it, ended up going south though...do ye recall the General?

"Of course I do."

"Well I believe the General is no more...there was a bit of a counter-revolution and he lost."

"Good...one less that we have to worry about."

Elliott closed her eyes again, seeming to doze off in the middle of the conversation. Illya retrieved a blanket from the bedroom and covered her with it rather than trying bring her into bed for the night.

She listened as he walked into the bedroom and watched as the light went on and a few minutes later Dimitry started to whimper. She heard his father sing to him...soothing him back to sleep, then the light went out a few minutes later as Illya settled into bed.

Elliott sighed, hoping her deception was not detected...she felt terribly guilty and just couldn't bring herself to sleep beside him...not at least until she had calmed down a bit. She also had the upset of Waverly's order to terminate her clawing at the back of her mind as well.

The next morning Illya woke hearing Demya talking to one of his stuffed toys.

"Hi Demmy," he smiled picking him up, taking him right to the changing table for a fresh nappy, then he carried him out to the living room,"now be very quite Demyachka...mama is still asleep on the sofa, da?"

He put Demya down on the living room floor to play with his set of blocks then headed into the kitchen to make breakfast.

He peeked back out at his son to check on him and saw the boy standing directly in front of his mothers face, leaning forward, not touching her as Demya knew that was a big rule...not to touch mama and papa while they are asleep.

Suddenly Elliott opened one eye."BOO!" she said. Sending Demmy into a fit of giggles.

"Hi mama...papa's in the kitchen. He's making breakfast," Demya announced proudly.

"Good morning" Illya called out to her.

"Mornin' Illuysha." she yawned,"Jay-sus, I feel like I've been run over like truck...why'd ye let me sleep on this lumpy sofa?"

He walked out handing her a mug of tea."Because you fell asleep there and I did not want to wake you up."

"Elliott are you alright?"

"Fine...I'm just fine," she lied to him, trying to mask her nervousness. Her heart was pounding as her conscience gnawed away at the pit of her stomach.

She sat up, taking a long stretch."Ye makin' breakfast Russian? she tried smiling at him.

"Yes... it would be my pleasure madam, and what would be your preference today? The choices are kippers, rashers, bangers, ham...pancakes, kashi,cream of wheat, eggs and of course English muffin, toast...French roll."

"Ewww...eggs. Eggs Benedict please?

"Your wish is my command."he smiled giving her a bow.

Illya fed Demya first then readied their breakfast, setting it out on the table when it was ready. Eggs Benedict for her, kippers and a French roll for him. They ate together quietly...but Illya noticed she did not eat that much and seemed to just pick at her meal.

"Annushka...are you sure you are alright?"

"I said I'm fine!" she spoke a little sharply to him, telling herself to relax and get it together.

He let it lay, guessing that she was still tired and just being a bit peevish and ignored her tone of voice for now.

"The weather forecasters are calling for it to be a nice day today...would you like to take Demmy to the park this afternoon, the fresh air will do him good. Maybe we can go to the lake to see the swans?

"Park..." she said absentmindedly," yes that'd be lovely."

Elliott seemed to relax as the morning passed, she played with Demya, read the news paper, though to Illya she seemed very quiet and pensive.

Illya tried getting a little cuddly with her when Demya went down for his nap but she was unresponsive towards him.

"Mmm...I am feeling a bit lonely right now," he said trying to nuzzle her neck, but she pushed her shoulder up fending him off as she pulled away; continuing to read without paying him any mind.

So he let her be, assuming she needed some space to wind down from her assignment. Some times they both needed that down time to unwind.

They gathered up Demya bundling him into his carriage, as the spring weather was still a bit cool, then headed out for a leisurely walk to Central Park, finally stopping mid-park at the Bow Bridge, a nineteenth century Victorian style span that crossed the lake at it's narrowest point. So named for it's graceful shape reminiscent of the bow of an archer or violinist. It linked the flowering landscape of Cherry Hill with the wooded Ramble... and it was the favorite place of lovers.

Illya and Elliott leaned on the railing taking in the view as the cherry blossoms were beginning to bloom... a few people were on the lake in row boats as a pair of mute swans drifted into view on the water from beneath the bridge.

Illya spoke softly as he looked down at them,cocooning his arms around his Annushka.

"Unwearied still, lover by lover, they paddle in the cold.

Companionable streams or climb the air; their hearts have not grown old. Passion or conquest, wander where they will...but now they drift on the still water, mysterious, beautiful..."

"Yeats wasn't it? she said,"that was lovely."

"Elliott...did you know that swans mate for life?" he whispered close to her ear,"that is very romantic... giving of one's self to another forever."

He hesitated for a moment."You know how much I love you...do you not?"

She nodded quietly, snuggling in closer to him, laying her head on his arm, still seeming distant.

"Then perhaps you could answer this question?" he said fumbling for a second as he pulled something from his coat pocket. He reached his hands around out in front of her, opening a black velvet ring box. In it was sapphire and diamond ring.

"Elliott...Annushka, would you...would you honor me by becoming my wife?"

Elliott pulled free of his arms, taking a few steps away from him...she had not expected this at all.

"Are you alright?" he asked, seeing she had gone suddenly pale.

""I'm fine." her eyes began to well up with tears as she stuttered," Illya I'm not sure...I can't... not right now..."

Illya stood with his mouth open, unable to speak for a moment.

"Elliott, you do love me do you not?"

She reached out touching her hand to his cheek,"of course I do a stór...it's just that I wasn't expecting this...we've never talked about it. I mean...isn't everything fine as it is right now?" She didn't know what to say to him...

Illya was devastated...how could he have misjudged her...they loved each other, was this not the next logical step to take? She had never hinted that she was against marriage?"

"Elliott, I am sorry if I upset you. It is alright...we do not have to be married...please do not let this change what is between us?" He suddenly became very afraid of losing her for some reason...that his proposal could perhaps drive her away from him. It seemed to have frightened her as she was trembling.

"We do not need a piece of paper to prove our love. I understand." he told her, though he did not sound pleased.

He held the ring out to her. "Take it Elliott, either way it is a gift for you. Wear it if you wish or not," he said coldly.

Elliott could hear the hurt in his voice as he tried to hide it and she took the ring box from his hand.

"It's beautiful Illya." she said looking at the ring. It was a square cut sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds, set in yellow gold.

"It is a Russian sapphire...it came from the Ilmeny Mountains in the Urals," he said proudly," I had thought the European custom suited you more rather than the diamond ring the Americans favor?"

Elliott was feeling overwhelmed with emotion."Illya, I did not mean to...I have something to tell you...it will hurt..."

Suddenly Illya's communicator sounded, interrupting her.

"Kuryakin here"

"Yes Mr. Kuryakin...sorry to disturb your day off but I am afraid you are needed at headquarters immediately... Mr. Gabriel will be joining the meeting."

He showed no reaction to Waverly's using his Archangel code name."On my way sir..." He looked to Elliott.

"Go!" she said." I'll take Demmy home, ye go!"

"What did you want to tell me?"

Elliott panicked... lying, she blurted out that the General had raped her, telling him that was why she wasn't herself.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, looking her squarely in the eyes, red-faced with upset.

"Why did you not tell me this?

"Illya if I am pregnant...it could be by him and not you."

Illya brought his hand to his head, squeezing his temples with his fingers..."When will you know if you are pregnant?"

"I can go to see Max within the next ten days for an ultrasound and blood test...so we'll no soon enough."

Illya pulled her into his arms."If you are... if it not mine," he paused taking a deep breath," we will love it...I will love it just the same, as the baby will be part of you. Do you understand me?"

She nodded, not saying a word.

He left her there on the bridge; his mind already focusing on getting to headquarters, but his heart was pounding and there was a knot in the pit of his stomach from Elliott's announcement. He caught a cab outside the park and was in Waverly's office within fifteen minutes.

"Thank you for getting here so quickly Mr. Kuryakin, please be seated."

Waverly tossed a file across the conference table to him, as Illya put on his reading glasses.

"As you may be aware, there has been a state of unrest developing in Greece...the upcoming elections have created quite a stir as it feared the leading candidate, George Papandreou, who is anticipated to win, would lead to a Communist take-over within the government. Up to this point King Constantine has been engaged in some political manuevering...having sent his envoy Demetrious Bitsios to Paris to renegotiate the return of Constantine Karamanilis...the former prime minister to Greece hoping for him resume his role in Greek politics. He would make a very powerful ally for the King."

"Unfortunately...there has now been a coup d'etat on April 21st to be precise...using "the Prometheus Plan" which was designed by NATO to fend off communist attack from a Soviet bloc country, the government was overthrown and martial law has been declared."

"This coup is being lead by some of the highest ranking generals and colonels in the Greek military, being has been centered in Athens with tanks put in place strategically around the city. Mobile units are being dispatched as we speak arresting leading political leaders and authority figures, ordinary citizens and so forth. The numbers are rising into the thousands. There are rumors of beatings, torture and killings..."

"The army is thought not to be part of the conspiracy and is obeying all orders given them since they are being perceived as coming from a legitimate source. By the early morning hours of the 21st all leading politicians had been arrested including acting prime minister, Panagiotis Kanellopoulas."

"King Constantine was requested to engage the state army against the coup but has refused to do so...having been forced into cooperation by threat of the military that surrounded his personal residence in Tatoi with tanks. The King has now sworn in the dictators as the only lawful government of Greece."

Waverly brought a photographer of the King to the video screen.

This photograph of King Constantine with his hands clasped together, taken with the leaders of the coup was recently released. But the King sent a sign you see," added Waverly," to the Greek people that he was acknowledging them against his will by clasping his hands in front of himself."

"Sir, if this is a legitimate take over of the government... then what necessitates our involvement?"Illya asked." What would be the role of Gabriel in this...surely not to interfere with the direction this countries politics is taking? Is this not the natural course of events...?

"That assumption is correct Mr. Kuryakin and the coup itself is not our concern, however there is one individual who is.

An image of a dark-haired man flashed on the video screen, dressed in a Greek military uniform with the rank of general. "This Mr. Kuryakin, is General Spiros Alexandropoulos, one of the members of the junta and unfortunately a member of THRUSH. It will be your assignment to eliminate this man thereby removing any of Thrush's undue influence on the change in regime in Greece."

"At present many of the individuals being taken prisoner by the military are being held at the Phaliron race track in Athens...sadly executions have begun. We believe this elimination of the opposition is due to Alexandropolos' influence...I need not remind you that there is to be no interference with any of the other members of the acting government at this time...as you say things must be permitted to run their natural course, even though we may not agree with it. You are to leave immediately via private jet. The U.S. Ambassador has requested you check in at the embassy for a briefing with the American C.I.A. representative in Athens. Good luck Mr. Kuryakin. Dismissed."

The C.I.A. knowing the details of his mission did not sit well with Illya at all...they could turn on him at any time, given his past history with them and more specifically Bill Klein. The risk factor for this assignment just shot off the charts...

Illya grabbed his file heading directly down to the armory, picking up a gun case and choosing his favorite sniper rifle, the Winchester 70. He loaded a small case with other UNCLE gadgetry and explosives devices, as well as the attachments for his UNCLE special. Then he went to wardrobe, selecting clothing that would help him to blend in with the locals. There would be no need to change his physical appearance, as there were plenty of blond, blue-eyed Greeks...his mastery of the language was good.

Security provided him with a Greek passport as he would be masquerading as an expatriate, the name he chose was Nickólaos Demetriou."

llya then headed to his office, picking up the telephone receiver, requesting to be connected with his home telephone number.

The phone rang several times before Elliott finally answered.

"Annushka. Sorry, I will not be coming home. I am readying to leave for the airport now."

"Any idea when you will be back?'

"Not the faintest...Elliott please think about what I asked you." his voice was a bit shaky,"Promise me you will think it over...for me?"

"Yes... I will."

"S'agapó_ I love you." he said in Greek...his only clue to where he was going," Everything will be alright."

"Xéro, o erastís, mou_ I know... my lover." she answered then hung up the telephone.

She called him "her lover..." making him suddenly feel as though he had a position of impermanence in her life...lovers could be set aside easily."

Was she doing that subconsciously?" he wondered as climbing into the taxi in front of headquarters. He was suddenly filled with an almost overwhelming sense of sadness and not having his mind at all on the mission at all.

He would have time though to think about the task at hand as it was at least a ten hour direct flight to the airport in the north of Greece.

Elliott hung up the telephone, feeling terrible that she had refused to accept Illya's marriage proposal. He had obviously planned it and it could not have been a more romantic setting...the beauty of spring surrounding them, the cherry blossoms the peaceful journey of the swans as they glided across the lake...mated for life he had said to her. Life...she wanted her life to be with him forever but she felt so unworthy of his love.

She had betrayed Illya with his best friend and almost confessed it to him until the chirp of the communicator interrupted her impulse to tell him the truth..."

"No...it was better that I hadn't. He doesn't deserve to be hurt," she said out loud. She realized Napoleon didn't deserve it ...she couldn't destroy their friendship. She and Napoleon had made a very stupid mistake and would have to live with it.

All the good that had come from her and Illya's love for each other would be destroyed if she told him...it would break his heart and drive him back to being the hard-hearted man that he used to be...she was convinced of it well as sure she was that it would destroy his friendship with Napoleon. Trust, honor, love, lies and betrayal were all part of her jobs...now all were part of her life as well.

Elliott wondered though if she had the strength to hide what she had done from Illya...she was a strong woman but at the moment she had never felt so weak in her entire life.

Demya began to cry, and she picked her son up, holding him close to her bouncing him gently.

"Ne plach' moy syn,ne plach'_ don't cry my son, don't cry?" she sobbed in Russian.

If she was pregnant that would complicate matters in so many ways...was it Illya's child or would it be Napoleon's?" Her story about the rape would cover that... but it was another lie upon a lie...

Ten days later Elliott sat in Max Schneider's private office.

"Elliott... you are most definitely pregnant. I thought you two were being careful, haven't you been using birth control?"

The doctor had simply confirmed her suspicions as Elliott had already "felt" like she was pregnant.

"We were Max...the condom broke."

"Oh, alright." he paused, "you realize I can't hide this one like I did last time...I'm going to have to report it to Waverly."

"Can you wait just a bit...Illya is on assignment and I'd like him to hear it from me first please?"

"Was he aware of the possibility?"

"Jeeze Max...he was there when the condom broke remember?"

"That's not what I meant...given the irregularity of your cycles. Prior to becoming pregnant now...the last time you had menstruated was two months ago...so you had no way of knowing if you were at the fertile stage or not. Just because the condom broke was not a guarantee you'd become pregnant...although in this case you obviously did."

Elliott became very pensive, not really hearing what Max had said to her.

"Elliott...Elliott?"

"Mmm yeah Max...un huh."

He shook his head. "I have to ask you in an official capacity if you plan on keeping the baby...though I think I already know the answer to that question."

"Of course I'm keeping it."

"I thought as much." Max said as he handed her a large bottle of pills." here's your neonatal vitamins..."

Elliott left Max's office feeling very confused..."Maybe she should consider having it aborted?" she asked herself," that would solve everything...but no, how could she? What if is was Illya's child after all?"

She couldn't in good conscience consider it and dismissed the thought from her mind. Napoleon could never know if the child ended up being his...she would have to stick to the story of being raped by the General if that would have to live with that burden and no one else.

It was going to be a long nine months...


	4. Chapter 4

The private UNCLE jet landed at Mikra Airport in Thessaloniki in the northeast of Greece. And there was a Land Rover was waiting for there for Illya as he deplaned, now dressed in a loose fitting collarless white shirt, dark vest, black pants and high boots. He wore a short-brimmed black cap on his head to cover the brightness of blond hair. He loaded his things into the truck, careful to stow the rifle case out of sight, then headed off.

He passed the red-tiled Mediterranean houses bright with white wash, numerous Byzantine churches and off in the distance he could see Mount Olympus, the fabled home of the Greek gods... Illya thought this would be a place he could enjoy exploring some day if he ever had the time. The Greek mythos and sense of history had always intrigued him and was so tied into the landscape itself...

He had been to Greece three times on assignment all with Napoleon, once to stop a megalomaniac named a Alexander, another time to retrieve a stolen UNCLE code book and lastly two years ago to stop a young Thrush trainee sent to blow up a dam. It felt a little strange being there without his partner, especially because Napoleon would not be around to come to the rescue if he were to get in trouble...

Six hours later he arrived in Athens...the city was in chaos and he barely made it through several check points without his weapons being discovered. But his passport and mastery of the language worked and he was able to continue on anonymously into the city.

He made his way toward Vasilissis Sophias Avenue, parking down the street; he walked the rest of the way to the gate of the U.S. Embassy, flashing his UNCLE identification, he was granted immediate access as he was expected.

"This way Mr. Kuryakin...the Ambassador will be with you shortly," the secretary escorting him said, "Can I get you anything, coffee, tea...or me?" she smiled flirtatiously.

She seemed to be offended when he have her no response and walked away apparently miffed that he had not reacted to her obvious overture...

"Napoleon is always better at these things," he thought to himself," sometimes Illya just could not think of the right thing to say, without inviting trouble. There were very few women that he ever felt comfortable with and the only one that mattered to him had just turned down his marriage proposal. He sighed trying not to think of that again.

Twenty minutes later he was brought into the Ambassadors office.

"Welcome Mr. Kuryakin...please have a seat," the ambassador offered his hand to Illya giving it a hearty shake," would you care for a drink?"

"No thank you Mr. Ambassador."

There was another man seated off to his right and Illya assumed it was the representative from the C.I.A.

"This is Mr. Mauer, the C.I.A. station chief here in Athens."

The man nodded to him but made no overtures to shake the Russian's hand and Illya made no such gesture either.

"Let me get down to brass tacks here" said the ambassador"...the United States does not approve of this military coup however my government is still backing it...in spite of the fact that it's "a rape of democracy*" in it's very birthplace."

"How can you rape a whore*?" Mauer blurted out.

"But... unfortunately," the ambassador continued, ignoring Mauer. "it is not within our purview to interfere with the situation at hand...you on however have the "independence" shall we say, that we lack at present..."

"What the Ambassador is trying to say is that in the commission of your assignment from UNCLE to eliminate the Thrush infiltrator among the junta...let's say that a few poorly placed shots at the others would be most welcome?"

"I am sorry Mr. Ambassador, Mr. Mauer. I am afraid that is impossible. I have my assignment to fulfill and nothing more...I have instructions to not "interfere" just as you do."

He changed the subject to the the details of his task.

"I understand that once my assignment is successfully completed I am to return here for asylum until UNCLE is able to initiate extraction procedures?"

"That is the plan Mr. Kuryakin. I commend your integrity...well you may not be willing to do what I'd like you to do but you are getting rid of one of the bastards for us. It's the least we can do for you in return for that. You will have safe haven here until such time your organization can retrieve you," offered the ambassador.

"I am not doing this for the United States sir, I am doing it as part of my job in protecting the world from the nefarious plans of T.H.R.U.S.H. and nothing more."

Mauer stepped in at that moment." Let's get down to details...the members of the junta are to make a public address not far from here tomorrow at ten in the morning in Syntagma Square." Mauer pointed to the place on a city map."The eastern side of the square is higher than the west and is dominated by a set of marble stairs leading down to Amalia Avenue. These steps are where the speech is to take place."

"Syntagma is known for frequent demonstrations as the Greek Parliament building is immediately across Amalia Avenue to the east...even with martial law having been declared there is sure to be demonstrators out in force to cause disruption. There are substantial green areas to the north and south with plenty of shade trees for cover. Now surrounding the area is the extensive royal gardens although the portion of the gardens behind the Parliament building is for restricted use for only the royal family.

"You've got some of the oldest neighborhoods in the city here..." he said running his finger along the map," Monastiraki, Psiro, Kolnaki, Thission district, all within walking distance of the Square...the ruins of the Ancient Agora here and of course the Acropolis just beyond."

Again Illya nodded saying nothing. Mauer folded up the map offering it to him.

"No thank you...I have it all in here now," Illya smiled, tapping his temple with his index finger.

"Suit yourself Kuryakin."

"Mr. Ambassador, unless there is anything else, I will take my leave now?"

"No Mr. Kuryakin, that will be all thank you...and good luck."

Mauer escorted Illya out of the building and to the front of the the compound. He suddenly grabbed Illya by the collar pulling him close before he had the gate opened.

"Here it comes." Illya thought to himself.

"Listen you little Commie fucker...you better be doing what you say you're supposed to be doing or so help me I'll..."

"Get your hand off me Mauer or you will only have one hand to use...permanently." Illya said sotto voce.

Maury stepped back, releasing his grip."If you screw the pooch in any way, don't expect to come back here for help. I was against harboring you in the first place and I won't have us being accused of complicity...do you hear me Comrade?"

Little did Kuryakin know that the U.S. was already duplicitous, as the leader of the junta had already been on the payroll of the C.I.A. for fifteen years.

KYP, the Greek intelligence service had been created by the OSS/C.I.A after the Greek in the course of the civil war with hundreds of it's officers receiving training in the U.S. They routinely bugged the ministerial conversations of their own government, turning the content of the conversations over to the C.I.A. who was fully aware that the head of the junta was planning the coup as far back as January...and Mauer knew that Kuryakin had no clue as to any of this."

"Illya snickered at the man."Tell Bill Klein I said hello, will you?" Mauer, surprised at that remark said nothing. With that Kuryakin slipped through the gate and disappeared down the street.

Illya returned to his vehicle and drove off to the neighborhood of Monastiraki to the Attalos Hotel on Athinas Street. He secured his rifle and cases in his room, took a nap to recover from the jet-lag, then later on headed up to the roof top bar for a meal. He ordered lamb kabobs, eggplant moussaka and topped it off with several glasses of anise-flavored ouzo as an aperitif as he took in the the complete view of the area...there was a flea-market less than a hundred yards away, beyond that the Ancient Agora and in the distance less than fifteen minutes by foot was the Acropolis. In the other direction the square and the Parliament buildings and the royal gardens.

Illya suddenly found himself missing Elliott, wishing she were there to share the spectacular view with him...then he suddenly remembered the sadness that at filled him when he left her. He hoped she was alright, wondering if she were pregnant or not. He spoke to God in a silent prayer."Please, if there is a child...let it me mine?"

He shook himself from his thoughts, paid for his dinner then left to explore Syntagma Square to find the best and safest vantage point to take out his target...

He walked around Syntagma then up the steps scanning across the square to find the best spot...it would be in the trees to the south...from there he could disappear easilr back into the crowded and busy of neighborhood of Monastiraki. Once he had taken Alexandropolos out, the city would again erupt into further chaos...he would have to move quickly doubling back to the hotel then simply walk to the safety of the American embassy.

Illya returned to his hotel room, pulling out his communicator."Overseas relay- Channel R- Gabriel."

"Yes Gabriel, what have you to report?" answered Waverly.

"Anticipate removal of target tomorrow morning at Syntagma Square in Athens. Will contact you at completion of assignment for extraction."

"Understood Gabriel. Out"

Illya sighed as he sat on the bed, looking over to the side that Elliott would normally sleep on...he tried not to think of her as he undressed and climbed under the covers, still feeling a little down. He tucked his special under the pillow, then was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. There was no need to set an alarms...his internal clock would have him awake at six in the morning.

His sleep was a restless one... as he was having a repeated dream that caused him wake up throughout the night. Elliott was in a car with someone...he could not see who it was and he knew she was leaving him, really leaving him. She had an infant in her arms, it had dark hair and dark eyes. He called after her as she looked back at him shaking her head "no," looking at him through the car window as it drove away. When he woke up...his pillow was damp. He was filled with a feeling of emptiness and abandonment...

Illya chastised himself for letting his feelings distract him so. He took a deep breath emptying his mind of her...burying his emotions as he had done all his life, allowing him to concentrate on the mission.

Illya returned to the roof top café, ordering a typical Greek breakfast of tomato and feta cheese drizzled with olive oil and Taygetos Mountain herbs, along with warm wholemeal bread, freshly squeezed orange juice and strong Greek coffee flavored with a little bit of vanilla essence.

After finishing his meal, he returned to his room preparing himself. He attached several explosive buttons to his vest, and put explosive compound in the heels of his boots. He left his UNCLE identity card and the rest of his things, carrying only his special, his throwing knife and his rifle case...this he wrapped in a piece of dark cloth to disguise it. He put his hat on and walked calmly out of the hotel.

He headed out to the square down to the southern end...it was virtually empty as the crowd had gathered up by the steps for the speech. The security had concentrated their efforts up there working on crowd control...they were beginning to haul away some of the dissidents in to police vans.

There were plenty of distractions there to keep anyone from noticing him as he climbed up into one of the many dense shade trees. Illya positioned himself up on a sturdy branch, adjusting his scope as he slipped the barrel of the Winchester through the leaves of the tree.

He checked his watch...five minutes more. Illya breathed in and out focusing his thoughts, forcing himself to relax. He looked through the scope again focusing in on the row of microphones that lined the exact spot at the top of the stairs as the military officers would speak.

He watched as they finally appeared, lining up together for their photograph to be taken. Then one of them stepped up to the microphones...Alexandropolous was the third one to the left.

A voice echoed across the square as the speech began...

"Antimetopísoume d'ykoles iméres brostá mas,_ We face difficult days a head of us, yet we have taken the first steps to free our country of the scourge that is Communism..."

The Russian took careful aim at his target, squeezing the trigger gently. He made the shot, hitting his target directly in the forehead, sending Alexandroplous' head back as his body collapsed to the ground. And then the frenzy began. There were screams as the other military officers were pulled to safety by their body guards. The crowd began to panic retreating in every direction as the police and military began grabbing people at random. Gunfire erupted.

Illya jumped down from the tree with the rifle still in his hand, ready to toss it into the nearby shrubbery.

"ALT! G´yra argá... péta to óplo kai válte ta chéria sas páno to kefáli sou tóra_ Halt! Turn around slowly... drop that weapon and put your hands above your head now!

Illya turned around as he had been ordered, facing two armed men dressed as civilians, obviously ESA, the Greek secret police and both of them had pistols trained directly at him.

He reacted instantly swinging his rifle knocking the gun from the hand of one while he lashed out with his free hand grabbing the wrist of the other man as he swung around and smashing his gun hand down against his knee, disarming him.

The both charged him but he brought them both down simultaneously with a karate chop to one and a kick to the gut of the other. Then he took off at a dead run heading towards Monastiraki. Moments later shots rang out from behind him as the men retrieved their weapons beginning their pursuit.

One of them called out into a walkie-talkie radio.

"Échoume to shooter stin órasi kai stin epidíoxi, méso Monastiráki_We have the shooter in sight and are in pursuit through Monastiraki! He is blond, thin...slightly built approximately 5'7' and wearing black pants, white shirt, dark brown vest!"

Illya turned and fired at them while he continued to run.

"The shooter is armed. I repeat he is still armed!"

Illya ran across a plaza to the middle of the large flea market pulling stands and displays over behind him to slow his pursuers, much to the protests of the vendors.

"Syngnómí_sorry!" he called as he ran past them.

Armed soldiers were suddenly charging down the aisle towards him, ripping one of the explosive buttons from his vest, he tossed it, exploding it in front of them. He scrambled across a table through of the side of a stand as an older woman began beating him on the head and back with a bolt of cloth.

"Malakia! Archimalakas_Son of a bitch! You big asshole!" she cursed at him.

Illya ducked, covering his head,"Parakló kariá! Oi ándres pou prospathoún na me skotósoun_Please madam! Those men are trying to kill me?"

"Oh...why didn't you say? Go go!" she said, then she hit the next soldier as he climbed through her booth in pursuit of Kuryakin."Malakia! Archimalakas!"she repeated.

Illya ran from the market, heading up one of the narrow streets that made up the neighbor hood of Monastiraki, still not losing them. He ran on heading around corners running up street after street until he found himself in the Thission district and out in an open area surrounded by the ruins of temples...he was in the Ancient Agora.

He ran up a small hill ducking behind the doric columns of Agoraeus gasping for breath, his head and shirt wet with perspiration, when an armed man stepped out from among the shadows of the weather stained marble and stone.

"Eí saí nekrós anthrópou_You are a dead man!"

"Den eínai í prótí forá_not the first time." Illya said calmly.

He raised his hand gun and fired it at Kuryakin. Illya, anticipating it tried dodging to his left. The bullet winged him in the right arm.

"Ahh!" he cried out in pain as he dropped to one knee, slipping his special to his left hand then hitting the ground he rolled, shooting the man in the chest, killing him instantly.

Illya staggered to his feet, cradling his arm with his gun hand he ran across the Agora toward the two aisled Stoa of Zeus, taking cover behind the inner colonnades.

He leaned back against one of the columns, feeling light dizzy when a bullet landed near his head, sending chips of marble flying into his face. Illya lowered himself down to a crouching position when he heard the repeat of a second shot and saw the muzzle blast. Illya fired, hitting the shooter, taking him out. He waited a few minutes for another round of gunfire but it never came.

Illya headed out the back of the Stoa moving up the hill behind it, making his way up to the top and the Temple of Hephaestus where he would have a better view of anyone else who was after him. His arm was bleeding heavily as he looked out over the Agora seeing no one...that was when he passed out. He came to sometime later, then using one of the columns for support, he pulled himself up to his feet.

He walked slowly out of the Agora, heading up to the Acropolis...the few tourists that were there ran when the saw the bloody figure of the Russian staggering towards them. The junta had driven many visitors from the country leaving many of the completely empty.

Illya stumbled around the multitude of blocks and stones strewn across the plaza atop the Acropolis, heading across past the Parthenon, covering in scaffolding, and towards the Erechtheum...the structure to the left of the temple would offer him cover and a complete view of the Agora as well as the only route up to the top of the outcrop.

He walked slowly around the south side of the structure, finally allowing himself to stop moving.

Ilya pulled out his communicator contacting Waverly.

"Gabriel here sir...mission accomplished. Complication however. They saw my face and am unable to return to the embassy. I am at the top of the Acropolis and low on ammunition. They have not found me yet, but I anticipate they will. I am going to take capsule B."

"Understood Gabriel. Set the homing device on your communicator. I will send help ."

He walked onto the Porch of the Caryatids...the classic female statues supporting the room the roof aboe him as he opened the top of his communicator, removing a tiny blue capsule. Illya swallowed it without hesitation. It would cause him to have nearly three days of amnesia, protecting him from revealing his identity as an UNCLE agent...at least before he died. And he was sure that was going to happen since he had executed one of their leaders. Not being completely fatalistic, Illya hoped UNCLE would find him first.

Illya then sat on the ledge among the the statues as he readied to set the homing signal, when he leaned back a stone beneath him suddenly gave way sending him backward out of the building. Illya landed hard, bashing his head on the marble blocks below, knocking himself out cold.

He saw her looking down into his eyes as they opened. They were limpid sea-green eyes and she had long black curly hair cascading in a frenzy over her bare, tanned shoulders. Her full lips stained red from the dark cherry she had just bit into.

"Geia, sas ti káneis_hello, how are you?" she asked.''

"Próstimo...nomízó. Ektós apó meriká chtypímata kai mólopes_fine...I think except for a few bumps and bruises."

"Bumps and bruises! You call getting shot and nearly cracking your skull open bumps and bruises?"

"I was shot?"

"Yes...right there." she pointed to the bandage on his right arm.

"Odd, I would have thought I remembered something like that."

"Your accent is a little strange...you're not from around here are you?" she asked.

The blond suddenly looked confused." I do not know? Where is here?"

"You are at my archaeological dig at Cape Sounion...we are about 65 km south-southeast of Athens."

He tried sitting up, then with a moan from the pain in his head he laid back down. "That was not a good thing to do," he mumbled.

"I found you at base of the Erechtheum on the Acropolis...I assumed you were one of the poor souls the junta was trying to arrest and brought you here out of the city to care of you."

"Junta?"

"You know...the military coup? A group of generals and colonels took over our government and declared martial law...they are detaining and arresting people by the thousands. One of the dictators was assassinated yesterday. It is all so terrible..." she whispered.

"I am sorry. I do not remember your name," Illya apologized.

"That is because you do not know it...I am Professor Aphrodite Theohari. Do you remember your name?'

"No I am afraid I do not...that bump to my head must have done something to affect my memory? I will be truthful and tell you my head and arm are hurting." he smiled weakly.

"Now that you are awake I can give you some morphine for the pain. I do have some good news for you," she smiled at him," you had your passport in your pocket. Your name is Nickólaos Demetriou...you came into the country two days ago at Thessalonikis. Does any of that sound familiar?"

"No...nothing. I remember nothing," Illya shook his head.

"Nickólaos you need to rest...you have suffered a trauma. God knows there are many Greeks who are suffering right now, at least I can help one of them." she said placing her soft hand on his cheek.

Aphrodite rinsed out a towel in a bowl of cool water and placed it across Nickólaos' forehead, then injected his forearm arm with the morphine. She noticed a dark area on the skin and wiped it with the towel, revealing a blue tattooed series of letters and numbers. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

Taking a mental guess at his age she asked him," Were you in a Haidari as a child?"

"Haidari?" Illya repeated.

"That was the Nazi concentration camp in Athens during the war...you have a tattoo on your arm. I have seen them before. The Nazis put their mark on many of their prisoners."

Illya shook his head, shrugging at his ignorance.

"No matter, Nickólaos...close your eyes for now. I will bring you some soup to eat?"

She left him laying alone on the then cot in the tent, carrying a small bundle with her. Once outside she opened the cloth revealing a silver pen, a throwing knife and a pistol with the initial K on the grip. The only things she found on the man besides his passport.

She rewrapped them tightly, placing them in a small trunk to keep them safe from prying eyes as well as from Nikólaos Demetriu. Though she found herself very attracted to the handsome blond with the eyes like the Aegean...she knew nothing about him except his name. He could be a dangerous criminal or a murderer for all she knew...

Aphrodite returned with a small bowl of broth for him, helping him to sit up in the cot by propping a pillow behind him; she fed him a spoonful at a time until all the soup had disappeared.

Illya was still a bit hungry, but would not be rude by saying so, as the woman had been so kind to him already and he wished not to trouble her.

"She draped a light blanket over him."Go to sleep Nickó. Tomorrow perhaps you might remember a few things?"

Illya grabbed her hand as she rose to leave," thank you Aphrodite." he whispered." Aphrodite...the goddess of love. I am a fortunate man to have been rescued by such a beautiful incarnation of the goddess herself."

"Ah you are a typical man...you may have lost your memory but you still remember which head to think with!" she laughed at him,"running her finger along his pale chin.

"Indeed," Nickó thought to himself as he sighed, watching the shapely woman walk from the tent.


	5. Chapter 5

Napoleon received the summons to Waverly's office the moment he had passed through the the agent's entrance in Del Florias and headed directly there.

"Good morning sir," he announced his entrance to his boss as he walked into the room.

"That Mr. Solo could be a matter for some debate...please be seated. There has been an incident in Greece with one of our agents."

"I heard there was an assassination yesterday in Athens...a General Alexandropolous, one of the leaders of the junta, correct?"

"Quite correct as it were...I'm afraid that the agent in question is one of our Archangels."

"So I take it we are responsible for the elimination of the Greek General?"

"Again correct Mr. Solo." Alexandropolous was a member of THRUSH. Unfortunately our agent was seen after completing his mission. From what I understand there are posters with police sketches of him now plastered all over Athens."

In his last communication the agent designated as Gabriel indicated that he would be taking capsule B as he feared his imminent capture by Greek authorities. He was supposed to have activated the homing device in his communicator at that time, but has failed to do so... but given the preponderance of wanted posters around the city; I think it is safe to assume that he still has not yet been apprehended. That at least is a hopeful sign."

'Your mission is to head to Athens and get Gabriel out Mr. Solo. And of course, I need your word to accept that an order of termination exists here as well, just as it did with Azriel, if you are not able to complete the extraction."

"Yes sir, though I don't like the idea; I will take care of the agent if I cannot bring him back... who is he?

"I am sorry to say Mr. Solo that the agent codenamed as Gabriel is Mr. Kuryakin." Waverly tossed a copy of the wanted poster that had been sent from Greece via a new technology device called a fax-machine.

"What?"

"You heard me correctly. I know you have been partnered for a long time and feel friendship for each other but that must supersede the possibility that Mr. Kuryakin, if captured will certainly be tortured into revealing his identity and his affiliation with UNCLE...this cannot be permitted to happen.

Napoleon stared at the facsimile of the sketch in front of him...there was no mistaking that it was Illya Kuryakin.

"U.N.C.L.E. cannot under any circumstances be compromised," said Waverly." If the existence of the Archangel program were to be revealed, the blow to this organization's credibility would be severely damaged. I know you understand this."

"Sir...kill Illya?"

"You were willing to take that responsibility prior with Miss Mc Gowan...this situation is no different,"Waverly's tone of voice changed from cold to one of sympathy."I of course would be prefer that he be brought back safely but if in the event he cannot then better Mr. Kuryakin's end come at the hands of a friend , then have him suffer at the hands of the ESA. They are notorious for their brutality and live up to the motto displayed at their headquarters...

"Friend or Cripple exits he who enters here." Mr. Kuryakin, if he were to even survive their abuses would most certainly be crippled for life...however he will more than likely be executed once they have gotten what they want from him. I know he is strong and resists torture better than most...but I think not in this case. I must add that you as CEA are the only one privy to the knowledge of the Archangel program outside of section one...I cannot risk bringing another field agent in on this mission. This assignment has to be yours and yours alone Mr. Solo."

Napoleon sighed heavily. Waverly had maneuvered him into a corner so easily, yet he knew the man was right...better he should take Illya out if need be, before he suffers.

Solo left Waverly's office feeling very conflicted. He couldn't couldn't speak to Elliott about any of this, even though she herself was an Archangel...she knew nothing of Illya's involvement in the program. She was aware of the termination order that Waverly had issued on her, so logic would stand to reason that she would figure out that the same order would hold true for Illya if he told her of the mission. The reality still remained that he may have to kill the man she loved...even though he did not want to and would try his damnedest not to.

"NO!" he said out loud... he would find a way of bringing his partner back. Napoleon resolved to save Illya somehow...he owed it to Elliott.

He boarded the private UNCLE jet at JFK an hour later, taking off for the airport at Thessalonikis. He only hoped that that his partner had not been captured and he wondered how the hell he was going to find the Russian in a city where so many were already looking for him?"

"Kalí Nickólaos proí_good morning Nickólaos," smiled Aphrodite, handing him a mug of strong coffee.

Illya accepted it gratefully."Efcharstó...myrízei ypéroch_thank you it smells wonderful," he said so, taking a long sip.

"I need to check your wound to make sure there is no sign of infection," she said as she gently unwrapped the bandage in his arm.

Illya looked at the wound, seeing that it was clean and neatly stitched. "Did you do this?" he asked her.

"Nai_yes I did." she smiled back at him,"One learns to do many things when isolated sometimes at a dig site...it looks clean, no infection, that is good." She wrapped his arm in a fresh bandage, then checked his head. That cut seems fine, though you still have a sizable lump. Do you want to try getting up?"

Illya nodded, sitting up slowly then swinging his legs to the edge of the cot and stood up, a little shaky.

"Whoa." he exclaimed as he tried to steady himself. Aphrodite grabbed him around the waist holding him until he had his balance. She could feel his strong muscles beneath his shirt.

"No, I am alright now...really." he smiled.

"I brought this for you...one of the men donated it." She handed him a clean powder blue shirt.

Illya immediately stripped off his blood-stained top as Aphrodite admired his lithe, muscular chest, thinking he surprisingly pale for a Greek.

Illya blushed a little when after pulling the shirt over his head when he realized Aphrodite was staring at him.

She suddenly realized that he saw her staring and blushed herself. "I am sorry, I did not mean to stare but that shirt makes your eyes seem like the color of the Aegean," she caught herself flirting then stopped,"I have to go into Athens today for supplies...that was what I was supposed to be doing when I found you yesterday.

I had walked up the Acropolis just to enjoy the view before going down to the market...that was when I saw your body laying a the base of the the Erechtheum. When I saw the blood; I first thought you were dead. You came to and I helped you walk down to my truck..."

"I am thinking right now though that it is wise you stay here...it is obvious that someone wanted to harm you. Better you stay out of sight and out of the city for now, alright?"

"Yes, that might be prudent if things are as you say."

"Nickó...do you remember anything at all. Who might have tried to hurt you?"

"Nothing yet."

"Last night I came to check on you while you slept. You were very restless and talking in your sleep but I could not understand the words...they seemed like a foreign language to me?"

Illya shrugged again, not having a clue.

"It was not French, nor Italian...not German either."

"Étes-vous sûr que ce n'était pas le Français...Oder vielleicht in der Deutchen...O forse Italiano_are you sure it wasn't French, or maybe in German, or possibly Italian?'He switched seamlessly from language to language. "I have been told though that my Italian accent is not good but I am not so sure of that is true," he chuckled.

"Nickó! Look what you just did...you spoke three separate languages without hesitation and you said someone commented about your Italian accent...you remembered!" she exclaimed, suddenly grabbing him in an excited a hug.

Their eyes met and Aphrodite leaned in kissing the handsome blond on the lips. She had never been quite attracted to a stranger as she had this man, much less acted upon it. He seemed gentle to her and somewhat sad. Was it because he had lost his memory? That to her must feel like the ultimate loneliness...

Nickó slipped his arms around her narrow waist pulling her to his chest. He could feel her heart pounding in excitement

"No," he stopped himself, taking a step back as he released her. "This is not right...you do not even know me? I do not know me Aphrodite. I could be some sort of murderous lunatic?"

She nodded her understanding of his concern. "That I do not believe to be true,"she said and then left him. She returned to Athens, arriving in just a little over an hour and found the city was in utter chaos. The secret police and military had arrested and detained thousands more people, holding them on the suspicions they were left-wing, communist sympathizers or some for no reason at all. Everyone was on edge, afraid to speak...watching over their shoulders. She was shocked when she saw posters of Nickó's face hanging everywhere claiming him to be the assassin who had killed General Alexandroplous.

Aphrodite did not find that frightening for some reason...he seemed like such a gentle man and in her eyes he was now a patriot for having done the deed.

While driving along the coastal road she had seen military transports travelling to and from the city, setting up road blocks and encampments in some of the smaller towns along the way. Their presence reminded Aphrodite of her distant memories as a young child when the Nazis and the Italians occupied her country. The images frightened her and she decided to buy extra supplies at the open air agora in Monastariki, thinking it might be harder to eventually get near the city. She would have to be careful herself as she did not sympathize with the new government.

Napoleon stepped from the sedan sent to Thessaloniki airport sent for him by the American Embassy; they were away of the situation with Kuryakin and the ambassador had offered their services knowing that travel would be even more difficult through out all of Greece since the assassination of General Alexandropolous.

Solo was traveling under false U.S. diplomatic credentials that would allow him greater freedom of travel though out the city and the surrounding towns. Illya could not have gotten far and had more than likely had been befriended by a local, the effects of capsule B were quite potent and the Russian would have absolutely no memory of who he was. Good if he were caught...bad that he was a wild-card wandering the city not knowing what he was capable of. Capsule B wiped an agents memories but not his instincts and knowing Illya they way he did, he guessed he would more than likely get himself mixed up with exactly the type of Grecians the military and the police were detaining.

The thought hadn't crossed his mind until now but he had to consider the possibility that Illya was hurt, dying or was lying dead somewhere, though he didn't want to believe that. Napoleon decided to think positively and presume Illya was still alright...

His first stop was to the Acropolis...Illya's last reported location. Solo didn't expect to find his partner there in such an open location...but he had to look anyway as there might be some clue...you never knew with the Russian. He found nothing.

He checked the hotel Attalos where Illya had reported he had registered and luckily the secret police had not discovered that fact yet. Illya's things were still there...his uncle ID, suitcase and briefcase with his attachments for his special all seemingly intact. He destroyed the ID card, then disposed of everything else before the police would inevitably arrive, then hit the streets to continue his search.

He wandered a hundred yards or so from the hotel towards an open air market. Illya had a penchant for such places and perhaps he was hidden among the many stalls and the multitudes of shoppers. Napoleon strolled casually among the many stalls and booths listening in on hushed conversations and watching their body language. He was dressed in a short sleeve khaki shirt with a bandana tied around his neck, wearing light khaki trousers...looking very much the inept foreigner, and a tourist. If he had to ask questions, he didn't want the locals to become tight-lipped thinking he was a member of the secret police. If he himself were stopped...his diplomatic papers and passport would cover him.

The posters of Illya's face were scattered everywhere, and it seemed to him that most people were not happy about it. He over heard whispers of conversations spoken carefully mentioning the un-named man who had murdered the General...their tone seemed to be that of pride.

A strikingly beautiful woman with long black hair rippling down to her waist caught his eye and when she glanced in his direction, seeing that she had the most amazing pair of green eyes. She had the proverbial hour-glass figure dressed in a rather fitted white tank top and long flowing skirt...if he wasn't occupied with trying to find his partner...well? He shook those thoughts away.

He continued to watch as the woman suddenly reached up, grabbing a poster of Illya's likeness, pulling it down and crumpled it up in her hands as he heard her complain quietly to an older woman selling bolts of cloth.

"Aftós eínai énas kalós ánthropos...prosopiká, eímai eftychís pou to ékane_He is a good man...I am personally glad he did it.

"Étsi eínaiai zontanós tóte...chaíromani Afrodíti_so he is alive then...I am glad Aphrodite." smiled the old woman." He came bounding through my booth yesterday with soldiers chasing him after him...he is with you then?"

"Yes he is safe with me Euphêmia. I must go." Aphrodite whispered to her then disappeared quickly into the crowds...

Napoleon smiled when he overheard the conversation and tried following her but she moved too quickly through the throngs of people now crowding the agora and he lost sight of her. What he had not seen was another man who also overheard Aphrodite's conversation with Euphêmia. He was a member of the secret police...and had no trouble following her through the market.

Napoleon headed back quickly to the booth hoping he could get information from the old woman.

"Geia sou_hello there..." he greeted her, examining a bolt of cloth,"such a hot day for a young thing like you to be working so hard," he flashed her a charming smile.

Euphêmia blushed, laughing behind her hand like a school girl, "Such a handsome man as you flatters an old one like me!"

"Tell me...that beautiful woman you were speaking to, the one with the green eyes. Where is she from?"

"Aphrodite? Oh yes she is a pretty one isn't she? Very sad though...she doesn't mix with the men too much. She has her mind on her work all the time! Such a waste...she breaks the men's hearts. Named after the goddess of love herself," she clicked her tongue," such a waste!"

"What type of work does she do?"

"She is an archaeologist...always digging among the ruins, surrounding herself with stone instead of a man's arms..."

"Really? I'm an amateur archaeologist myself...on vacation here. My name is Arthur Penderghast, I was hoping to join a dig somewhere."

"Oh you are in luck then...Aphrodite is always looking for free help with her work. You can find her down the coast at Cape Sounion near the Temple of Poseidon."

"Why thank you my dear," she smiled again, kissing Euphêmia's hand, making her laugh.

"My aren't you the bold one Mr. Penderghast!"

Aphrodite returned to camp early in the afternoon hearing from her people that Nickó was fine and had wandered down the cliff to the waters edge to do some exploring. She prepared a picnic style meal for her team of seven men and women...

The long table covered with a plain white cloths was set with a nearly a dozen bowls. Greek olives, crusty bread were always a must at the table. For starters dolmathabi_stuffed grape leaves with rice and lamb, tzarziki_ a yogurt, cucumber and garlic dip.

Tyropitakia_small triangular wedges of phyllo dough filled with four different cheeses,horiatiki salata_ a salad of tomato,onion, green pepper and feta cheese. Bifteki skhara_grilled pork and beef burgers, potato salad with egg, chobani_Greek yogurt and for desert,mixed fruit with orange juice and honey, and baklava_ a honey sweet pastry with ground walnuts. And of course plenty of ouzo and wine.

"Aphrodite! Such a feast? Why the special meal?"asked Hektor, her assistant.

"Maybe it's for our handsome new visitor, Nikó?" one of the women teased her.

"Stop!" Aphrodite denied it, but in truth it was for his benefit." Spyros...get your fingers out of the chobani and go fetch Nikó and the others...supper is ready!"

Nikó was relaxing down by the water's edge dozing, as he had spent the afternoon exploring the shoreline. He had noticed a small yacht anchored off shore, it's bow decorated with the traditional Greek "all seeing eyes"... put there for protection. He wondered who the vessel belonged to.

As he slept, he became aware of a woman's presence in his dreams and knew somehow those blue eyes belonged to her. He could not see her face though...just felt her presence and he kept hearing words but he did not understand what they meant.

"Annushka. Demya." echoed in his mind... were they words or names...he did not know.

"Nikó...NIKÓ! Wake up!" Spyros called to him.

But Illya had already heard the man coming towards him along the water's edge. "Eímai x'ypnios_I am awake." he answered instantly.

"Come on Nickó...let's go. Aphrodite will be cross if her special guest let's the food get cold!" He offered his hand pulling Nickó to his feet.

"Special guest?" Nikó asked as they trekked up the path together.

"Yes...she has made a very special meal with many foods. We only get this when there's company! So it is good for us that you are here enh?" Spyros gave Nickó a hearty slap on the shoulder.

Greeks are warm, hospitable and demonstrative. Some of them embraced Nickó kissing him on the cheek, slapping him on the back as they welcomed him to the table...sure that their bounty was due to his presence.

The conversations were loud and gregarious as they all dug into Aphrodite's feast...Nickó sat quietly at the opposite end of the table from her and after realizing she was watching his every move, he could no longer take his eyes off her as well.

Aphrodite being the hostess offered up the first toast. "Stingyiosy_to your health!"she said, looking directly into Nikós eyes.

"Ach na agapíse_ah to love!" shouted Spyros.

"To love!" they all raised their glasses, looking at Aphrodite and Nickó. The two blushed again, looking at each other.

Nickó went through the motions of eating properly with his fork in his left hand and his knife in the right, remembering to keep his elbows off the table. They were all talking and laughing, plucking and sharing food from each other's plates. But Nickó felt very much out of place.

He finished everything on the plate feeling the urge to eat more but he resisted it. He then put his napkin next to it, laying the knife and fork parallel on top of his plate, handles facing to the right to indicate he was finished eating...all the while feeling as though this was all foreign to him...these Greek customs that should feel so natural to him. It seemed to him as though he was standing outside his body, a stranger watching himself do these things.

After all was cleaned up from supper Aphrodite's crew pulled out musical instruments...bouzouki, the bowed lyra pontos, a set of gaida bagpipes and a small toumbi drum.

Spyros broke out into a song while they all sat around the campfire.

"Miá voskopúla agápis,Miá zileméni kóri, Miá voskopúla, Miá zileméni kóri_I fell in love with a shepardess an excellent girl, I fell in love with a shepardess an excellent girl...Ke tin agápisa polí, Imún alálito pulí, Deká hronón agóri_ I was a speechless bird, I was a speechless bird and loved her very much..."

Aphrodite and Nickó disappeared together, walking up the hill to the Temple of Poseidon as the vouce of Spyros continued to echo below them. The the skeletal remains of the temple reached out like tall fingers to the sky, the pink marble gleaming in the last rays of the sun as it began to fade.

"Apó tin mési m'árpacse, Me fílise sto stóma, Apó tin mési m'árpacse, Me fílise sto stóma_she embraced me about the waist, she kissed me on the mouth, she embraced me about the waist, she kissed me on the mouth." Spyros' words could still be heard in the distance.

His song made Aphrodite feel a little nervous at first being alone with Nickó, remembering that he was an assassin. She dared not tell him anything...she wanted to prolong his ignorant bliss for this handsome man for as long as she could. She was feeling greedy,knowing that once his memories returned, he would probably go back to his old life...

She spoke of the Temple to calm herself, behaving more like a scientist than a woman.

"The temple was constructed approximately 440 b.c. and is almost 60 meters above the Aegean. She pointed up to the columns...they are Doric style colonnades twenty feet tall and are of locally quarried marble...only 16 remain of the original 42...if it was intact, the temple would have resembled the Temple of Hephaestus in the old Agora in the city...it is theorized they were both designed by the same..."

"That is all very interesting Aphrodite," Nickó smiled as he reached his arm around her waist.

"But right now I find the sunset and some other things more intriguing," he said quietly.

He motioned her to sit down on the steps in front of him, wrapping his arms around her as the sun began to set a spectacular red upon the blue waters of the Aegean sea that surrounded them on three sides. A full moon was already visible in the sky over the water behind the island of Nisida Patroklos. As the sun finally faded, Nikó leaned forward kissing her on the throat.

Aphrodite felt her apprehension disappear as he held her and turned her head back to him, her lips meeting his... then stood taking his hand.

"Érchetai...éla mazí mou_come... come with me?"she whispered to him.

Aphrodite took Nickó by the hand, leading him down a back path to the shoreline, there they climbed into a small dingy and Nickó rowed out on the now dark Aegean waters that were so calm, they seemed like glass towards the boat still anchored off shore.

"This is my boat," she told him." It is called the Nereid Thetis."

"Yes, the sea-nymph Thetis," he smiled, " the mother of Achilles."

Nickó suddenly quoted from the Iliad, "Thetis cried out in sympathy of Achilles' grief for his slain cousin Patroclus...There gathered 'round her every goddess...every Nereid that was in the deep salt sea depths...and the silvery cave became filled with sea nymphs..."

"Well said,"Aphrodite smiled as she lead him below deck to her cabin.

Aphrodite turned and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Then she stopped, pulling the bottom of her tank top, raising it up slowly over her head and revealing her ample breasts to him. Her skin was tanned by the warm mediterranean sun in stark contrast to the almost alabaster paleness of his.

Nickó could not help but respond...a goddess was offering herself to him. He pulled Aphrodite to him, kissing her deeply, drinking her in, tasting her, exploring her with his hands.

He reached under her skirt, pulling away her panties then lifted her onto him, leaning her back against the bulkhead...he made love to her slowly, allowing her to savor every bit of him as she climaxed with a loud cry of pleasure.

Nickó then carried her to the bunk, laying her down gently caressing her with his lips as he removed the rest of her clothes, then his own. Then he rolled her over, taking her from behind in a wild frenzy until he too climaxed with her as he cried out "Annushka!"

Nickó dropped down beside her on the bunk, breathless.

"Mmm that was nice," Aphrodite whispwered,"but what is Annushka?"

"I do not know," he said,"but you are right, it was very nice, "then laughed softly, burying his head in the crook of her neck, kissing her again.

But all the while he was making love to her, the image of those blue eyes...the other presence, kept flashing in his mind. Was it his memories trying to return to him...what was this word that he had called out in his passion? The blue eyes...he did not know who they belonged to, but he was sure that they were waiting for him somewhere."

The next morning Nickó did not feel that well as the water was getting a little choppy...a storm was on the way. And after making sure the boat was battened down and the archor secure, they rowed back to shore.

"Ah so Nickó, another clue about you...you are obviously not a man of the sea as you get seasick!" she laughed. "Today, I will show you my discovery. It is an underground temple...I believe it is a shrine to Alexander the Great himself! If I can prove it...it will be one of the greatest finds since the tomb of King Tutankhamen in Egypt!"

Aphrodite lead him down the far side of the hill beneath the Temple of Poseidon to what looked like a small cave...as soon as Nickó stepped inside, he hesitated.

"I have been here before," he whispered.

"Nickó, that is impossible, we just opened it a few days ago...no one has been in here for centuries!

They walked together down a long corridor with flashlights, when Nickó suddenly told her to stand still. He placed a broken piece of marble on the floor, then stepped forward, depressing some sort of release in the floor. A secret door slid shut in front of them, the marble keeping it from closing.

"How did you know to do that Nickó?" Aphrodite demanded.

"I told you...I have been here before" he insisted, modulating his voice lower. 

The military truck filled with a half dozen solders headed down along the coast road towards the Cape of Sounion. The secret police sure in the knowledge they were closing in on the assassin. They would be there shortly to arrest him and those harboring him.


	6. Chapter 6

Elliott sat in her office at headquarters going through some of her files, and finishing up her report on the botched mission to Brazil. Her mind was preoccupied tough, not feeling well the past few days. She'd had a lower back ache that seemed to be getting worse and this morning she had twinges of abdominal cramps. She decided it would be wise to head up to medical later on just to be on the safe side.

The door to her office opened quietly and her partner Ari Ziv walked through the door smiling at her.

"So how are you today my bubbala_darling?"

"Not feeling well if ye want the truth of it...I'm under a bit of stress. I've got a lot on my mind." she answered barely looking up from her paperwork.

"Ah bi gezunt," he spoke Yiddish to her, "Don't worry so much about a problem, what ever it is...at least you still have got your health. So your worries should mean bubkes_ nothing."

"Easier said than done...do I have my health right now? I don't feel like it at the moment?" she sighed.

"Well how about some lunch with me in the commissary to take your mind off things for bit, we can visit with Tillie...I hear she has a bun in the oven? he smiled.

Elliott suddenly went pale, " no Ari...gay aveck_get out of here and go enjoy Tillie's company please!"

"Very nice use of the Yiddish...but I insist, you need to take a break...you look very pale."

Elliott suddenly stood up, grabbing her abdomen as she felt a severe cramp...almost like a contraction. She looked down and saw bright red blood all over her skirt.

"Oh God Ari...get me to medical now!" she blurted out just before she fainted.

Elliott woke up in bed in the medical wing, with Dr. Schneider and Nurse Walsh hovering over her.

"Elliott...can you hear me?" asked Schneider.

"Mmm huh." she answered groggily,"what happened?"

"Elliott," said Max quietly, " I'm sorry but you've have had a miscarriage.

"Mmm?"

"Elliott?" he called her name again.

"Did you just say...I lost the baby?" she whispered in a daze.

"Yes, we did an ultrasound...sorry honey, I'm afraid so...look we're going to have to schedule a D&C to treat you alright? You're hemmorraging and we have to stop the the bleeding now. And we have to watch you for infection as well. Now you'll be in here in medical for a few days...so no arguments please?

"Sure Max," she said caving in easily. She felt completely wiped out..."why...what caused it?"

"It's hard to tell at this stage...it may have been to some sort of genetic defect at the time of implantation...or there could be a number of other factors. Ten to twenty-five percent of pregnancies result in we probably won't ever know for sure. Spontaneous abortion is just something that happens..."

Max handed Elliott a tissue as her eyes began to fill with tears. She was saddened by the loss her baby, but at the same time the dread that had been eating away at her as to who had fathered it was now gone. And now guilt filled her for feeling that relief.

Max spoke as if reading her mind...

"Look Elliott you are going to be running the whole gamut as far as your emotions are concerned... your body and hormone levels have to adjust along with your feelings.

If you are anyway depressed about this loss, I want you to speak with Dr. Dennison...to you understand me?"

"You have no idea Max," Elliott nodded, quietly wiping the tears from her eyes, then blew her nose.

Nickó took hold of Aphrodite's hand as she insisted they continue to explore the rest of the temple. She had not been down two of the three passages that were in the center of the structure that lay hidden for so long, carved meticulously into the cliff beneath the Temple of Poseidon.

It was in this corridor that her entire belief about the temple being untouched was proved wrong when they found a dust covered pistol lying among the debris...it had the initial K on the grip. Just like the one she had found on Nickó when she had rescued him at the Acropolis.

Nickó picked the weapon up cradling it tentatively in his hands, staring at it...just like the temple this too was familiar to him. He tucked it instinctively into the back of his belt without even thinking about it.

"Nickó," she admitted," I found such a pistol tucked into your belt when I took you from the Acropolis."

"Why did you not tell me?" he asked her, seemingly annoyed as they kept on walking.

"I am sorry Nickó, I did not know what to do with it...I put it away in a trunk for safe keeping. Guns frighten me. It is with your throwing knife and an unusual silver pen."

They entering into a large chamber with an altar stone in the middle of the room; a long scimitar suspended above it and there were the remnants of ropes scattered about it on the floor.

"A pen...a pen?" Nickó repeated. He knew this pen she spoke of was important. He stopped, holding his head as if he were in pain, but couldn't remember the significance of it. Then he did remember something very important about the chamber...

"Be careful where you walk in here Aphrodite, there is a hole...a bottomless pit somewhere nearby."

Suddenly a voice spoke from behind them," Three soldiers and an ESA agent stood with their weapons trained on Nickó and Aphrodite. The ESA agent walked closer, lighting the torches along the wall, illuminating the entire chamber in the dancing light of the flames.

"Nin metukineíte eseís oi dyo_ do not move you two! Maybe I should throw you into that pit myself...a fitting punishment for a murderous traitor and his accomplice! Now put your hands over your heads! the agent ordered.

"I don't think that will be necessary," spoke another voice from behind the agent. "I suggest that you drop _your_ weapons and you put_ your_ hands on your heads instead...please?" said Napoleon calmly.

The ESA agent spun round getting off a shot as he dove for cover. The soldiers ducked behind a pillar, firing at Nickó and Aphrodite.

Nickó shoved her back out of the way as he grabbed the pistol from the back of his belt diving down to the floor, taking out one of the soldiers with a single shot.

Aphrodite screamed and Illya turning his head quickly in her direction, saw that she had fallen into the opening of the pit and was barely holding onto the edge.

"Aphrodite!" he called out.

Illya crawled to her, staying low to the floor; his arm grabbing her's at an odd angle just as her hands slipped from the edge. The sudden drop of her weight pulled at his shoulder until he felt it pop as it dislocated, causing him to let out a yelp of pain.

"Parakaloúne na min afísei na páei apó ména Nickó_ please don't let go of me Nickó!" Aphrodite begged, sobbing in fear.

Illya lost all feeling in his arm, moaning as he struggled to twist around as he lay on the floor, trying to take hold of her with his other hand...but then she was gone. He could not feel her hand as it slipped from his grip.

Aphrodite fell to her death into the pit. Kuryakin laid his head to the floor as his partner, having dispatched the ESA agent and remaining soldier came to his side.

"Are you alright Illya? Do you know who I am?"

The Russian didn't answer him for a moment.

"ILLYA!"

"I know who you are Napoleon," he answered as all his memories had come back flooding back to him and he let out a sob looking down into the pit. Napoleon stood there with his hand laid gently on is partner's head as he grieved, not saying a word.

They returned to the entrance of the temple, walking outside Illya turned facing it.

"I thought we'd seen the last of Mr. Alexander's shrine?"Napoleon said to his partner.

"It will be this time," said Illya, as he removed one of his boot heels.

He took the explosive compound hidden there, placing it around then entrance then stepping back, he drew his weapon and fired...setting off an explosion collapsing the entrance collapsing in a pile of dust and debris, sealing it closed.

Illya cradling his injured arm in his gun hand as he whispered, "No one will disturb your tomb goddess,"he whispered. then walked away with his head lowered.

"Illya, your arm is bleeding...were you shot?" Napoleon noticed as he walked beside his partner.

"Nearly three days ago...she took care of it for me," he spoke with sadness in his voice." I must have opened some stitches. It will be alright...I am alright Napoleon." he reassured.

Napoleon and Illya walked around the cliff back down to the encampment, finding Spyos and Hector the only ones still there, holding rifles on the three soldiers as Napoleon had instructed them to do.

"Nickó, thank God you are alive...where is Aphrodite?" Spyros asked,"everyone else ran when your friend here saved us from the soldiers."

"Afrodíti eína nekrós...thamménos sto ná káto apó to vrácho_ Aphrodite is dead...buried in the temple beneath the cliff. See that she is never disturbed." he said coldly.

"Spyos and Hector were shaken by the news and both took turns embracing Nickó." You have our promise...no one will ever know of the temples existence." they both promised him.

"What should we do with these three?"asked Spyros.

"It's up to you,"Napoleon said, " just keep in mind that you might be wanted men soon...I suggest you disappear as quickly and as far away from here as possible. I would make this place look like a camp had never been here if I were you."

"Kill them," Illya said gritting his teeth. There was definite anger in his voice.

"What?" Napoleon asked, surprised at Illya's statement.

"They have to die...other wise Spyros and Hector will be dead men. It is my fault they are mixed up in this so I should be the one to do it." he said without hesitation.

"Nickó...no" Hector said.

"My name is not Nickó, it is Illya, Illya Kuryakin...and I am Russian, not Greek."

The two Greeks seemed unaffected by this revelation.

"Well then Illya Kuryakin...this is not your fight then is it? This is for us Greeks to will take care of enh?" Spyros answered," Now you need to leave here as well. Take the Nereid Thetis...it will be safer for you to travel by sea than land. Farewell."

Spyros and Hector disappeared into the landscape escorting the soldiers in front of them at gunpoint.

Napoleon pulled his communicator from his shirt pocket. "Open channel D overseas relay-Waverly."

"Yes Mr. Solo...please tell me you have something good to report?

"Yes sir. I have extremely good news. Mr. Kuryakin is with me and his memory has returned. We will be sailing up the coast to Thessaloniki and will contact you when we reach there. He will need medical treatment for I suspect a dislocated shoulder and some stitches for a gunshot wound... I don't want to risk bringing him in anywhere along the mainland."

"If he can manage with the discomfort, then take him to our field office in Istanbul...the sooner you get him out of Greece the better."Waverly said.

"Yes sir...that is the general plan."

"Well done Mr. Solo, well done." Waverly said.

"No sir, not until I get him safely out of here."

Suddenly up from the behind them in the hills, they heard the sound of three rifle repeats that echoed one after another. echoing into a roll of thunder in the distance. A light rain began to fall.

Napoleon and Illya said nothing as they headed down to the shoreline, taking the dingy to Aphrodite's boat, then made ready to sail up along the coast up to Thessaloniki.

Napoleon helped Illya settle down below as he would be of no use on deck with a dislocated shoulder.

Illya hesitated as he lay down in the bunk in which he had made love to Aphrodite not so long ago. He started to tremble a little thinking about it...he was responsible for the woman's death and he had betrayed Elliott. His guilt was gnawing at him, that on top of the pain and now feeling a little seasick made it worse.

Napoleon sensed his partner's apprehension as he laid down on the bunk, noticing that Illya become visibly upset.

"You O.K. buddy?"

"Fine...I am always fine am I not?"he said coldly.

"No you're not fine...don't lie to me. Something is bothering you."

"Aphrodite..."

"Illya the loss of an innocent on a mission is never a good thing, but you can't beat yourself up because of it? It'll be alright."

"Napoleon, it is not just that...I pushed her out of the way...right into the opening of the pit. I killed her...I am responsible. Aphrodite, she...she and I we had been intimate..."

Napoleon arched his eyebrows."Oh... got ya'. I understand.

He paused for a moment before posing his question to his distraught partner."I have to ask you...was it you or was it Nickólaos Demetriou that was with her? Remember, you were under the effects of capsule B?"

"Nickó, I guess," the Russian sighed. "I was me, but not me, I suppose. The affects of capsule B can be quite disturbing...I was aware of my actions...they felt foreign to me but at the same time I had no real inhibitions at doing what I did. I had very faint echoes of memories but nothing I could grasp onto...nothing to make me stop from being with Aphrodite."

"Are you going to tell Elliott?"

"I do not know. Napoleon... I asked Elliott to marry me before I left for this assignment and she turned me down and there is a chance she is pregnant again. I want to be honest with her but I am afraid then she may not want to be with me anymore?"

"Why would she do that if she's going to have your child."

"Napoleon, the baby may not be mine... Elliott was raped by the General."

Napoleon blanched at that statement, knowing that it wasn't true. He did the math, suddenly realizing that he could be the father if she was pregnant.

"She told you she was raped? Oh God Illya...I'm sorry!" he blurted out.

"Look," Napoleon said controlling himself, choosing his words carefully as he swallowed his own guilt.

"We all make mistakes...we're only human. We have to learn to forgive ourselves and try to do better next time. We need to forgive each other. You've got to trust in her...she's a good woman. I don't think she would want to leave you...Illya she really loves you. God knows...I've made some terrible mistakes in my life that I need a little forgiveness for...you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Illya suddenly had a feeling that his partner was asking for his pardon but for what he did not know. "Well I forgive you your sins..." he smiled, thinking he would get a smart answer from his partner but was surprised at Napoleon's response.

"That means more to me than you'll ever know my friend."

He was not quite sure what Napoleon meant by that but decided not to pursue it. "Thank you for your insights Napoleon." he exhaled deeply. "I will keep your advise in mind. I think I do feel a little better...now if you could get rid of my seasickness...?"

"Sorry tovarisch,"Napoleon laughed, "I'm good, but I'm not that good!" You just lay down and take it easy for now?"

"Napoleon...I have neglected to thank you for coming to rescue me, again...thank you moy brat."

"Hey that's what I'm here for!" he smiled returning to the deck of the Nereid Thetis resolving not to tell his partner of Waverly's order to terminate as he prepared to set sail...the storm was actually offering a light tail wind and would help the small boat make good time. Napoleon checked, finding the boat fully stocked, then hauled out the jib bag, ran the sheets, the removed the cover from the sail. He uncleated the sheet to pull the sail up, tightened the ropes...

He checked the wind direction again as well as the compass then finally hoisted the anchor, dropped the sheets unfurling the sail and the boat was off.

If this weren't a means of escape...he mused that he could enjoy such a trip. Napoleon loved sailing; the freedom, the peace...in spite of the fact that he was not a good swimmer. Water made him nervous if he was in it, not when he was on it. He let his mind drift back for a moment to his childhood, sailing with his family off the coast of the Hamptons...the feel of the wind in his face and the smell of the sea making him smile.

His experience at the helm of this type of boat made it easy for Solo to handle by himself... Illya eventually came on deck though, sitting in a bit of a daze beside his partner in the soft rain, unable to help because of his arm, dealing with his seasickness in silence.

"Illya...go below," he said, "there's no reason for the two of us to get soaked.

The Russian only shook his head no, staying where he sat in spite of his partner's protests, he could not assist sailing the boat but at least he could keep Napoleon company.

Solo dropped anchor as the sun set, then set sail again at sunrise to cover as much ground as possible in the morning hours knowing that he would make little or no headway as the winds were beginning to make things a little dicey as the day progressed. It was a rough passage but he pushed through it, watching poor Illya get sick over the side...but it couldn't be helped.

Napoleon estimated the winds at about 30 knots, making the waves quite huge. He tried staying to the leeward side and he neared the high-cliffed islands that helped to produce more calm from the Maltemi winds that were kicking in early.

They made their way northward, hugging the coast line, until the made it to the Northern Sporades, an archipelago off the east coast of Greece. Only four of the twenty four islands were inhabited year round and Solo ran the Nereid Thetis aground on the the island of Alonnisos where he knew they could catch a ferry up to Thessaloniki, travelling the last leg of their journey more quickly as Illya was did not seem to be doing well at this point, though he wouldn't admit it. The closer they got to their destination; the more Napoleon felt like he could breath a little easier.

He helped his partner down from the from the deck of the boat to the strand, then walked together in silence along the empty beach, listening to the steady crunch of their feet on the pebbles that made up the shoreline of Alonnisos.

The monk seals bobbed their heads up from the water watching the two men as they headed for the the harbor at Patitiri...there Napoleon stopped at a taverna, purchasing a bottle of ouzo, handing it to his partner and Illya took a long swig from it...making a face.

"I think I do not like this so much anymore," he mumbled as he passed the bottle back to Napoleon. The trip to Thessaloniki took a little over two hours all the while Napoleon kept feeding the ouzo to the Russian to help with the pain.

Though Napoleon first thought Illya was brooding from the drink, he finally realized something else was wrong now with his partner. He looked worse and it was not from being seasick. Napoleon reached over to Illya placing his hand his forehead, discovering he was very feverish. That on top of the Russian's pain and his seasickness spelled trouble.

There was nothing he could do though until the ferry landed...perhaps he could get to a chemist once they arrived in Thessaloniki. They arrived at last at the harbour, not a tourist destination but rather a commercial one... the shoreline dotted with large cranes for the removal of cargo containers from freighters. The ferries were more for the convenience of those who lived in the Archipelago...but luckily enough tourists came this way to warrant a car rental service in the harbor. This at least solved an immediate transportation problem for them.

Napoleon helped Illya down from the ferry, being very unsteady on his feet and having trouble standing on his own. He supported him by the waist...holding the ouzo bottle in his hand, pretending to onlookers that Illya was simply drunk as they headed directly to the rental agency directly across from the dock.

The Russian let out a groan as Napoleon set him down in a wooden chair outside the office door then he lifted his partner's sleeve carefully checking the wound, discovering it had become infected.

He noticed something strange on Illya's forearm... a tattoo of some sort. It looked like an old one...a series of primitive letters and numbers in blurred dark ink and wondered how he had never seen it before? It reminded him of the tattoos given to concentration camp prisoners during World War II.

"Nooo, "Napoleon dismissed, "couldn't be?" he thought as he pulled his communicator to contact New York.

"We are at the harbour at Thessaloniki sir," he said to Waverly,"

Napoleon let out a loud sigh." I'm afraid that Mr. Kuryakin is in need further of medical care than I first estimated...his wound's become infected and he's running a high fever.

"Dear dear me, not good. Under no circumstances are you to take him to any medical facility. I am afraid the climate in the country has escalated even further, as an ESA agent and several of his men have gone missing, some others were found executed at Cape Sounion...you and Mr. Kuryakin didn't happen to have something to do with that did you?

"Well...sort of," Napoleon answered him sheepishly.

"I thought as much... never the less, you are to continue with the plan of getting to Istanbul; it shouldn't take more than five hours or so to get there by car. The border crossing between Greece and Turkey is in an extremely remote area...so the odds of Mr. Kuryakin being recognized there are slim."

"I again must remind you that should there be a problem getting Mr. Kuryakin across the border...if there is a risk of capture; the termination order is still in affect. Good luck...Mr. Solo. Waverly out."

"Waverly cut him off before he could respond."Not a chance in hell that's going to happen." Napoleon swore to himself.

Napoleon helped Illya from the chair into the passenger seat of the rented Chrysler Hellas, handing him some aspirin he had gotten from the car rental agent, as a chemist was too far into the city, where Illya might me recognized. Solo then jumped behind the wheel and took off heading up to the Egnatia Odos highway, the only direct route to the border between Greece and Turkey.

He glanced every once in a while at Illya watching as he leaned with his head against the window of the passenger door, his eyes blinking slowly and were glazed over from the fever.

"How you feeling?"

"Fine...just fine," Illya answered in a raspy voice.

Five and a half hours later they arrived the remote district of Katanies, not far from the border gate of Karaagac.

Napoleon knew that in order to get his partner through with out detection he would need a distraction...calling the guards attention from searching the vehicle.

"Illya? Wake up...I need you to hang in there, we're almost home free."

Illya said what he thought was "I am fine" to Napoleon but the words came out completely unintelligible.

"Tovarisch...you're going to have to hide in the trunk until we get past the Greek and the Turkish sides of the gate...you understand me?

"Mmm."

Napoleon helped Illya from the car, hoisting the limp Russian up into his arms and placing him carefully in the trunk. Then taking his own supply of C-4 from the heel of his shoe; placing it quickly on a large tree by the road side, affixing his wristwatch to it as a timer and setting it for ten minutes.

The explosion would call away the attention of the border guards and he only hoped there wasn't line of cars waiting in front of him to cross into Turkey and blocking the way.

He pulled up to the first gate and luckily there was only a single truck ahead of them as Napoleon glanced at his watch...five minutes had already passed. Then finally the truck was permitted to pass. There was nothing fancy...no gate, just a guard house. The same on the Turkish side as well. The guard stepped up to the car as Napoleon rolled down the window.

"Ta éngrafa parakoloú me_papers please?"

Napoleon handed his American passport and diplomatic credentials to him immediately.

"Oh American...I try learn English O.K. I speak you English, practice little bit yes?"

"Sure...fine? Napoleon smiled at him nervously.

"Purpose?"

"Purpose? Oh purpose of my visit? I am travelling to Ankara for a meeting at the U.S. Embassy."

The soldier passed the documents back to him.

"You understand I must search car now? Papers no matter." the soldier waved his hand.

Suddenly there was a loud explosion startling the guard. He waved Napoleon on through the gate hurriedly as other soldiers appeared from the guard house, running down the road with their rifles ready, heading towards the explosion.

Napoleon pulled through the gate, sighing...now for the next hurdle. He hope there would be no reason to search on the Turkish side. He slowed the vehicle, stopping at the next gate house and handing his papers automatically out the window towards the guard.

The soldier the documents, eyeing Napoleon suspiciously, then walked over to a dark haired man waiting by the door to the gate house. The two walked slowly back towards the car and Napoleon put his hand to his special that he had tucked in his his belt for easy access.

"Mr. Solo?" asked the dark haired man.

"Excuse me?" Napoleon feigned ignorance.

"I am Zafer Baduklu, the assistant to the American Ambassador to Turkey. Mr. Waverly contacted us at the embassy indicating you might be in need of some assistance here at the border. I understand you have a very sick partner on you hands." the olive-skinned man spoke with a very Harvard accent.

Napoleon breathed a sigh of relief. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Baduklu, please call me Napoleon," he offered his hand to the man. "Right now we need to get my partner out of the trunk." Napoleon said as he walked to the rear of the car, opening the trunk quickly, lifting the now unconscious Russian from it.

"Follow me Napoleon...we have a helicopter waiting to take you to Istanbul...Mr. Waverly said his man was running a fever from an infection...?"

"Correct."

"Then a helicopter is the most expeditious means of transport to get your man his medical treatment," Zafer Baduklu smiled, "follow me please?"

Illya woke in medical after having received a substantial dosage of intravenous antibiotics along with plenty of IV fluids. They cleaned and treated his gun-shot wound and lastly took x-rays, confirming Illya had indeed dislocated his shoulder.

Napoleon watched as the UNCLE physician administered a a mild sedative to the Russian as he lay prone on the bed. Once the sedative had taken effect; doctor manipulated and flexed Illya's elbow ninety degrees, gradually rotating the shoulder outward...Kuryakin experienced some muscle spasm for about ten minutes until the shoulder blade finally relocated.

Napoleon cringed as he listened as Illya's shoulder finally popped back into place as the doctor moved it.

Several days later when the infection was under control and Illya was deemed fit to travel with his arm in a sling and his shoulder immobilized. He boarded the commercial flight at Atatürk airport with Napoleon, finally winging their way home for the return trip to New York City.

Illya's parting instructions from medical in Istanbul were to take his pain medication and to see the orthopedist in New York in a week for a re-examination. The prescription pills, he promptly tossed into the trash. He knew the orthopedist would keep him out of the field for a few weeks as he would need gradual physical therapy to increase his range of motion.

Their flight landed at Kennedy on time, though it had been a long trip; they took a taxi directly to headquarters to debrief...

Illya had his report already composed in his head, this time to dictate to Janet the section two secretary, as he would not be able to type for some time. He hoped the debrief with Waverly would be a short one as he was anxious to see Elliott and his son...wondering at the back of his mind if there was indeed another baby on the way. He felt determined after Napoleon's pep-talk to overcome his fear of losing Elliott...surely they could talk things over at this point. Their last conversation on Bow Bridge in Central Park had been interrupted and he planned to try and take up where they at least had left off.

The de-brief in the conference room was kept mercifully short...

"Mr. Kuryakin...I believe you need to take a trip up to medical..." Waverly said to him.

"Sir, I am not due to see an orthopedist for another week..?"

"No young man...Miss Mc Gowan is confined to medical at the moment...though I understand she is alright."

Illya looked visibly upset. "What happened to her?"

"That Mr. Kuryakin is something best discussed with she and Dr. Schneider...now go, off with you then!" he said reaching to his humidor to fill his pipe.

"I'll catch up with you later," Napoleon said seeing the look on his partner's face as they left the office together. "Waverly said she's alright...don't look so worried." Napoleon said as he headed off in the opposite direction.

Illya took the elevator up to medical still concerned about what was going on...he did not like surprises. Max Schneider was waiting there for him as the elevator doors opened.

"Max...I have no patience right now. What is going on and where is she?"

Schneider eyed the Russian with his shoulder and arm immobilized in the sling."Relax...Elliott's not hurt. You need to come to my office for a few minutes then you can see her. O.K?"

Illya sat down in front of Schneider's desk. "Alright talk Max." he said impatiently.

"Illya...I know that you were aware of the possibility that Elliott was pregnant..."

"Was?" Illya interrupted, "as in she is no longer pregnant?"

"That is correct."

Illya became quiet for a moment then spoke sharply..."I cannot believe that she had it aborted? How could she do that without talking it over with me? I have..."

"Illya stop...she didn't. Elliott had a miscarriage. She lost the baby."

Illya covered his mouth with his hand, taken off guard by the news. "She is alright?"

"Physically she's fine, emotionally a little distraught...but I think seeing you will help alleviate a good deal of that. So enough said...she's in room seven."

Illya walked quickly from the office to Elliott's room...taking a deep breath before he stepped through the door.

He stopped himself there in the doorway, looking at her as she lay in her bed reading a book... as if nothing were wrong at all. He felt a little relieved as he had not known what to expect, as miscarriage was a subject he knew very little about.

Elliott glanced up from her reading, calling out his name in delight when she spotted him.

lluysha! Oh God I'm so happy ye are home!"

"He said nothing as he walked to her bedside, sitting down on the edge of the bed simply wrapping his arms around her. Elliot buried her head in his chest as she began to cry.

"Annushka moya yedinstennay lyubov'_Annushka my only love. I am so sorry...I was not here with you...you know that"He whispered to her,"your are my only love."

"No Illuysha, tis' I who should be sorry...I hurt ye so badly that day in the park. Can ye forgive me?"

Illya stroked Elliott's hair softly as he held her close to him, then gently kissed her on the head.

"A very wise man told me that we all need to forgive each other's mistakes... as well as to forgive a ourselves. We have to trust in each other even though we may falter and make our mistakes...can we do that, you and I... can we forgive ourselves and each other?"

Elliott reached under her pillow pulling something out and placing it in his hand. It was the black velvet ring box with the sapphire ring he had given her.

"Can we try this again?" she whispered.

Illya smiled taking it from her, then removing the ring from the box..."Elliott...my Annushka," he said as his eyes filled with tears," will you honor me by being my wife...zhenit'sya na mne pozhaluista_marry me please?"

"Da ya, moya lyubov'_yes I will, my love. I will marry you Illya."

He put the sapphire on the ring finger of her right hand, then cupped her face in his hands kissing her leaned in whispering into her ear..."The next time there is a baby...we will have made it on purpose. I promise you that."

He wrapped his arms around her reassuringly, she burying her head to his chest again...convinced now the baby had to have been his. That was what she would believe and nothing else.

She and Napoleon never spoke again of the incident between them and eventually it became a distant memory, feeling as though it had never even really happened at all. But it was still a secret they would bear in silence together for the rest of their lives. She knew in her heart that Illya's words about forgiveness had come from Solo...seeming like a message to her from him. And Elliott forgave him, as well as herself for their moment of weakness.

Four weeks later Illya Kuryakin and Elliott Mc Gowan stood in New York's City Hall in the office of the City Clerk. Napoleon Solo and April Dancer flanked them on either side to be their witnesses. Ari Ziv, Mark Slate, Tillie and John Ieuan Rhys and Alexander and Estelle Waverly, were there, joined by a security team.

Waverly had given his approval to the nuptials much to the surprise of of both agents, who had half expected to tender their resignations to U.N.C.L.E. but found again it would be unnecessary. Waverly even agreed to give the bride away.

He seemed genuinely pleased for the young couple, thinking back on his own life and having managed to be a SAS agent with a wife and children himself. This marriage however would be ground-breaking for the organization, adding a new twist in his mind to his "project"... evolving now to married field agents with a family.

Illya was dressed in a grey fitted Italian suit and grey silk tie courtesy of Napoleon's tailor, with a single white rose bud pinned to his lapel.

Elliott wore a simple short white A-line sleeveless dress and a small white veil covering her hair that was piled up in curls on the top of her head...the same way that she had worn it when Illya had first seen her that New Year's night in Paris so long ago. The only jewelry she wore were a small pair of diamond studs and the diamond pendant Illya had given her. In her hands was a bouquet of white roses and lilies.

The clerk began the simple ceremony...as Illya and Elliott looked only at each other intently; the rest of the world had ceased to exist to them...being lost at the moment in each others' blue-eyed gaze.

"The step that you are about to take is the possibly the most important one which a human being can make. It is the union of two people founded on mutual respect and affection."

"Your lives will change, your responsibilities will increase but your joy will be multiplied if you are truly sincere with your pledge to each other..."

Illya Nickovich, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, forsaking all others for long as you both shall live?"

"I will," he answered quietly.

"Elliott Tatayana, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor him, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?

"I will," she smiled.

"Join hands and repeat after me..."

Illya and Elliott put their hands together, never taking their eyes from each other.

"I Illya take you Elliott, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer for poorer, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health from this day forward.

"I Elliott take you Illya..."

At this point, there wasn't a dry eye in the room as she repeated the marriage vows to her Russian.

"Do you have a ring for the bride? the clerk asked and Napoleon handed a narrow gold band to his partner, taking it, Illya held it to the ring finger of Elliott's right hand.

"Please place the ring on the bride's finger..."

"With this ring I thee wed," Illya said to Elliott as he slipped the ring onto her finger. "I give you this ring as a sign of my vow with all that I am and all that I have, I honor you."

"Is there a ring for the groom? the clerk repeated the question and April handed an identical gold band to Elliott, as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"With this ring I thee wed," Elliott said putting the band on the ring finger of Illya's right hand." receive this ring as a token of my love, my faith and my pledge to love you now and forever."

"Let these rings be given and received as a token of your affection, sincerity and fidelity to one another."

"In as much as Illya and Elliott have consented together in wedlock and have witnessed the same before this company and pledged their vows to each other; by the authority vested in me by the State of New York, in the city of New York. I now pronounce you husband and wife."

"You may now kiss," the clerk smiled.

Illya lifted Elliott's veil, then took hold of her by the waist bending her backward in a long passionate kiss to the applause and laughter of their witnesses. During the kiss the Russians believe the souls of the two loving people are joined together...

"Folks I give you Mr. and Mrs. Illya Kuryakin!"

The couple stopped for a moment, signing the official registry, amid the congratulatory hand-shakes, back-slaps, hug and kisses.

The wedding party then travelled to 57th Street to the Russian Tea Room for a small private reception.

Mrs. Orloff was there with Demya, who had been dressed in a navy blue jacket, white shirt, tie and short pants...looking very much like his father.

And as everyone who had gone to City Hall arrived, they joined Lisa Rogers, Wanda, George Dennell and a few other members of various sections who had been invited, as well as Illya's fellow lab personnel. They gathered together, waiting for the couple to arrive in the opulently decorated Tea Room with it's dark hunter-green walls trimmed in gold.

The deep green and gold wall partitions covered with large gilt carvings of peacocks done in the imperial style gave the room a very Russian feel. The booths were red leather and the red carpet had intricate designs of gold and yellow woven into it.

Some of Elliott's Irish musician friends were seated at the far end of the room along with traditional Russian musicians. Fiddles, flutes, concertinas, accordions, balalaikas and guitars all ready to play for the evenings' celebration.

Illya Kuryakin had been a regular customer years, so the owners gladly closed down the entire restaurant just for the private reception. They had witnessed the metamorphosis of this solitary and brooding Russian as he slowly changed to a genuinely happy man and were glad to host the celebration for one of their own.

Illya had changed from his suit to a traditional Russian collarless shirt...a rubaha, the white garment embroidered in red around the neck, front cut, wrists and bottom with Russian talismanic designs; the red threads in a criss-cross pattern symbolizing the unity and harmony of nature, soul, body and family...the white threads in the pattern symbolizing the mothers of the world...the vazhenki, represented by the female elk. He wore the shirt outside his black trousers, with a colorful belt knotted around his waist, a Russian symbol for hopes of fertility in the marriage.

Elliott had changed into a deep green kerchief style peasant skirt and a white peasant blouse with strands of colorful beads draped round her throat and a spray of baby's breath atop her red hair that was now loose, flowing to her waist.

Glasses of vodka had been passed around to all...it had not been a traditional wedding for the couple but Mrs. Orloff and the staff would at least observe some Russian customs for them.

The couple entered the room to a rousing round of applause...then Napoleon raised his glass as Mrs. Orloff had said he must be the one to offer the first toast.

He cleared his throat raising his glass as he stood in front of Illya and Elliott. "I'm a little in-experienced at this,"he smiled, "so here goes...first an Irish blessing."

"May God be with you and bless you. May you see your children's children. May you be poor in misfortunes and rich in blessings. And may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward. ZA molodykh_for the newlyweds, he gave the traditional first toast in Russian, raising his glass.

Mrs. Orloff initiated the next custom, shouting "Gor'ko! Gor'ko!" joined in chorus by the rest of the guests. The word in Russian meant "bitter" referring to the taste of the vodka and at this point the couple must kiss for a long time to take out the "gorech'_bitterness." Each time a toast was made the word was shouted again and if the couple did not kiss long enough, the guests would still insist the vodka was bitter and request another kiss. There was a lot of kissing for Illya and Elliott that night.

Another custom was the "stealing" of the bride...some of the male guests would make the bride disappear and the groom would have to go in search of her and barter the request for her "ransom" having to pay money and buy drinks to get her back...Elliott was whisked away several times during the reception...

The second official toast of the evening should have been made by the couple to their parents...but since that was not possible, the toast went instead to Alexander Waverly, thanking him for his years of guidance and his blessing of the marriage.

The band began to play softly as dinner was served. The guests sitting at the tables that had been arranged in a T shape with the bride, groom and witnesses seated at the top. Illya and Elliott fed each other amid the calls of "gor'ko" then visited with the guests along the table.

The music became more lively after the meal and following custom the couple took the first dance...the band played "Unchained Melody," while Illya and Elliott moved slowly holding each other closely.

"To Mr. and Mrs. Kuryakin!" April shouted.

"Mazel tov!" Ari called out.

"Gor'ko! shouted Mark, joined by the others... "Gor'ko! Gor'ko!"

The couple kissed until the band moved into a fast Russian melody and the two began to suddenly dance wildly, gypsy like...it was a combination of both Irish and Russian folk dance. Elliott spun doing intricate steps with her feet, Illya suddenly squatted to the floor, his arms crossed in front of his chest, dancing the Russian Kazachok, kicking his legs out alternately in front of him, then he jumped athletically to his feet, grabbing Elliott, finishing the dance with her as they spun together in each others arms, stopping at the exact moment the music ceased.

The guests broke out into wild applause and whoops, then joined the Kuryakins still catching their breath on the dance floor.

When things quieted down, Illya approached the band, making an announcement to the guests.

"Thank you my friends for making this a memorable day for us...it has been one of mostly Russian traditions in a Russian establishment but as you all know my wife..." he paused for a second, smiling at the word, "my wife is Irish...so I would like to take this moment to do something for her." He held out his hands asking Elliott to come to him.

Illya cleared his throat nervously, then nodded to one the Irish fiddlers who bowed a long sweet note on his fiddle, playing softly as he began to sing; not in a loud voice but it was true and strong enough. It was an old Irish song and one of Elliott's favorites,"The Banks of the Bann."

"When first to this country a stranger I came

I placed my affection on a comely young dame

She being warm and tender, her waist small and tender

Kind Nature had formed her for my overthrow."

"On the Banks of the Bann water, I first beheld her

She appeared like fair Venus or a Celtic queen

Her eyes shone like diamonds, her hairs softly twinning

Her cheeks were like roses, or blood drops in the snow."

"My name is Delaney and a name that won't shame me

And if I had saved money I'd have plenty in store

But drinking and courting, night rambling and sporting

Were the cause of mt ruin and my absence from home."

"Had I all the money that's in the West Indies

Or had I the gold of the African Shore

I would spend it on pearls and on you my red girl

For there's no other love in this world I adore."

"And now I've found her, I'm contented forever

I'll put rings on her fingers and gold in her hair

And we'll live on the banks of the lovely Bann river

In all sorts of splendor, I will style her my dear."

The guests erupted into loud cheers, applause and whistles when he finished but Illya did not wait for the next shout of "Gor'ko"...he pulled Elliott by the hands into his arms as she cried, embracing her in a tender kiss.

"Is thú mo grá, a stór_I love you," he whispered to her in Irish.

At the end of the evening Illya and Elliott handed each of the guests a small wedding cake, signaling they would be leaving soon...then kissing Demya as he slept in Mrs. Orloff's arms, they left hand in hand, but not before Elliott tossed her bouquet, it landing right in the arms of Lisa Rogers.

Napoleon was dancing with April as he watched Illya and Elliott disappear from the room.

"You look sad Napoleon?" April whispered to him.

"I suppose I am a little...things are changing, you know?"

"Always will," she smiled," we just have to make sure we go with the flow and adapt."

Napoleon suddenly smiled impishly, "Well then bear with me as I go with the flow..." he said as he planted a deep kiss on April's lips.

"Bout' time," she laughed, kissing him back.

Alexander Waverly, seeing Solo and Dancer kissing on the dance floor muttered, " Oh dear...not them as well?"

"Oh knock it off Alexander," chided Estelle Waverly," they're only human...don't you remember when we were young?"

"Quite." he smiled back at his wife.

Illya and Elliott Kuryakin changed to casual clothing as they left for their weekend at the Plaza Hotel...a small wedding gift from Napoleon. Their extended honeymoon would have to wait, as the preparations were under way for the upcoming Summit 5 conference to be held in New York and Illya Kuryakin would be over seeing the security for the entire event.

Illya unlocked the door to their suite as he and Elliott smiled at each other, lost in the purity of their love that they knew would have to sustain them through the realities of their work with U.N.C.L.E. and the dark twisted world of espionage.

They both knew compromises would have to be made...secrets kept to keep each of them safe... lies and deception always to be a part of their lives...but none of that mattered at the moment.

Illya bent to pick Elliott up to carry her over the threshold...

"Mr. Kuryakin, are ye sure...yer shoulder?"

"I am fine."he smiled," tonight I am strong like Russian bear for you, Elliott Kuryakina."

He lifted her easily into his arms, kissing her as he stepped across the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him with his foot.

FINIS


End file.
